Storms
by AliceEl1zabeth
Summary: Left by Edward in the woods, Bella moves on with Jacob as Edward faces an eternity of regret. Four years later, engaged to wed & facing a life she doesn’t want, Bella struggles against what she wants most as Edward fights for her love & his redemption.
1. Look

**.**

**We're four years on and he never returned.**

**.**

**The night creeps over the world and stares at it with dubious eyes. The petrol station is the only light for miles around; it glows dim in the black world, its flickering orange light shaking pathetically over the road. Rust patterns the building, and signs hang off it at odd angles; you have to turn your head to read them. A fat man is visible through the store window, pressing buttons on his phone and eating a candy bar. A moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips, his mum used to say. He never paid her any attention and now the cost pools under his shirt. He shifts and flicks the page of a magazine he has not bought.**

**The wolf-man stands in the carpark, petrol chugging into his car through a huge vibrating tube. He should have been home an hour ago now, but he's been at the jewellers checking prices and sizes and colours and his mind is full of gold and white gold and three hundred and eighty dollars, sir, low as I'll go, you can pay in monthly instalments if you like.**

**The wind plays with the night world, flirting with the leaves of the trees which line the road as far as the eye, human or otherwise, can see. It is raining, the sort of half-rain that you barely notice until it dribbles down your forehead and falls into your eyes. He runs his hands through his hair and checks his watch. He hopes she isn't worried.**

**And then he smells it, on the wind. He smells it and he freezes and anger shoots through him like a lightning bolt. It sets fire to every particle of his body and he spins around, wild eyes searching the hidden world of the night, listening, waiting. The wind breathes onto his face and the scent is laced into the air. His eyebrows slowly lower and cast dark shadows over his eyes.**

**The vampire is running. He is always running, but he never knows where he is going or why he is going there; his feet lead and the rest of him merely follows. His brows are set and dark eyes hide a darker soul.**

**That bitter, wet-dog smell hits him; wriggles up his nose, seeps into his mind, and he snarls, turns, running so fast he is no more than a whisper in the night. He wants nothing more than to attack, rip, tear; _he is so angry_. He has been angry for such a very long time. He does not know who this wolf is but it does not matter. Maybe if he had known the significance of this particular enemy he would not have been so quick to make his mistake. Maybe.**

**But probably not.**

**The wolf sees him coming and shivers, bracing himself, but he does not transform; he isn't stupid. The veil of night is not a veil of invisibility. Inside the store the fat man turns his head, small watery eyes widening, chins dropping as though someone has filled them all with lead. Half-chewed chocolate is displayed to the world as he reaches out a lumpy finger and presses three buttons. Hello, he says slowly, hello, is that the police, yes, I'm at the garage, we've got a situation here please.**

**The vampire throws an air-cracking punch and the wolf holds it back. Hatred poisons their faces and sets their hearts alight. The russet skinned face burns red with fury; the deadly pale one gleams in the fake light of the station. Breath falls fast and furious, and they move liquidly, sharply, the impacts so loud that they send shocks through the fat man; with each hit his chest wobbles. The vampire fights because he is desperate for release, escape_._ The wolf fights because he knows exactly who this is and he wants him to suffer for what he did; suffer and then _go the fuck away_.**

**The siren throws itself into the silent night and then reels itself back in. The two lock eyes and spring apart, fists shaking, a long thin gash dribbling blood down the arm of the wolf. The vampire's eyes slide down to it, and he looks quickly away. His irises are blacker than the night which sits content and quiet around them. The fat man chews slowly, wondering how he can say all this in a hundred and forty characters or less.**

**The car slides sharply into the garage and the door opens, closes, and angry footsteps smack against the tarmac. What is this, demands the tall, reedy, handcuff-toting cop, what is this, this is a public place, what are you thinking, this means arrest, I hope you realise we don't take this sort of thing lightly. No indeed, we take it real serious.**

**He doesn't know that they both could have killed him with their little fingers.**

**It was me, spits the werewolf, anger heaving up his throat and contaminating his words. It was me, he said, I started it and he tried to run away. He tried to run away because that's what he does, he's a bastard, a heartbreaking life-ruining undeserving tail-turning bastard.**

**The werewolf is carefully blocking his thoughts, but his words expand the vampire's eyes, and a black gaze turns and stares and searches a mind which has been purposefully clouded. He doesn't argue.**

**And the cause of all this trouble? She is sat at home, head on elbow and eyes on the driveway.**

**This story has lain dormant for four years. But now it's bubbling, quietly heating, building, growing. We're counting down to the explosion.**

**Well.**

**Shall we begin?**

**.**


	2. not

**((none of the poems i use are mine. authors are listed on my profile. twilight is stephenie meyer's but then i'm presuming you already knew that, not being an idiot :] ))**

**.**

**And I have known the eyes already, known them all--**

**The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,**

**And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,**

**When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,**

**Then how should I begin**

**To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?**

**And how should I presume?**

.

"I can't _believe _this, Jake! You got _arrested_?"

Jacob smashed his huge fist against the table, and cracks snapped out around the point of impact. "I already got told off at the station, so don't waste your breath doing it again," he spat. He glared down at the broken wood; his hand still clenched tight, his knuckles pushing out against his skin. His brows were shading his eyes and his lips were thin and set. His chest rose and fell, as each angry breath was quickly heaved in and out. His shoulders, broad and square, were tense.

I ran my hands through my hair and stared at him. I waited for him to continue, perhaps explain _how _and _why _and _what the hell_, but he did not speak again. The kitchen was very quiet. The bulb in the ceiling cast a circle of orange light around us, and outside the window the night was a black blanket draped over the world.

My mind grasped out desperately in the silence, searching for explanations. How could he have got himself arrested? Jacob wasn't the brightest lightbulb in the box, but he wasn't _stupid _- he knew what would get him in trouble, he knewhow tight the cops were in areas like this. I stared down at his bowed head, trying to fathom out what could possibly have gone wrong. He didn't look up at me; he just carried on glaring at the table. I felt almost like a mom dealing with a disobedient child.

I hated it when he got all defensive like this. My Jacob, the Jacob I had grown to love, seemed to evaporate completely. I was left with a hostile person who I didn't particularly revel in the company of. He could not honestly expect me to leave him alone; you can't just walk into your home two _entire _hours late, with the news that you've been detained by the _police_, and then not expect your girlfriend to be annoyed. Especially if your girlfriend has recently become your fiancée. I had every right to be mad. I didn't fancy marrying a convict. Besides, I was the daughter of a Police Chief- I had grown up with the law as my Bible.

He still didn't say anything, and he was in danger of staring a hole into the table. I sighed, and tried to take the offensive again. "You can't just waltz in here with this kind of news and expect me to drop it." I said, but there was no response. "What did you do? What were you _thinking_?"

He didn't look up at me. His eyes were fixed on the cracked wood and his face was unchanging, quivering slightly with anger. "Bella, I've had this conversation with so many cops already, it gets old," he said, finally, through lips that were so close together I was surprised the words managed to squeeze through.

I raised my eyebrows, scraping the chair opposite him out across the lino and throwing myself into it. I stared at his head, waiting for him to raise his eyes. I loved him, of course I did, but it was when he behaved like this that I began to wonder whether I could put up with him for my whole life. When he felt like it he could be a bit of a git.

"What did you do?" I demanded. When he didn't reply, I reached across the table and forced his face upwards with my hand. His skin was rough and stubbly under my fingers. He met my gaze defiantly; his dark eyes rebellious, lips thin. "Jacob, come _on, _what happened? How am I supposed to even _begin_ to understand this if you won't explain it to me?"

Jacob turned his head away, staring out of the small kitchen window into the evening light. I opened my mouth to question him again, but he cut me off before I could say a word.

"I lost my temper, okay?" he said, his voice low, quick and sharp, his eyes fixed on some dark shape outside. "There was… this… this…" he paused, and glanced at me; looked down at the table, out the window, and then back at me again.

"What?" I asked, waiting for him to continue.

He grimaced before he spoke. And when he did, his voice was quieter, more hesitant. Careful. "This…guy. And he said… stuff…" He blinked, facing the table again, and his eyes had lost their aggressive look. He raised his head and I saw they were wide, pleading with me to understand. This was the sensitive Jacob I knew and loved, and I breathed an inward sigh of relief that the conversation was turning rational. "I dunno, Bells, I guess I was just wound up. I haven't been getting much sleep, and this guy…he pissed me off. I punched him, he hit back... then the cops turned up."

I groaned. "Jake…"

He bit his lip, looking for all his life like a puppy that had just done something naughty on the carpet. "I'm sorry, Bella."

I reached out a hand and laid it across his clenched fist. I looked over his face, trying to read it. He shot me a small smile, his teeth white against his russet skin. Then he abruptly broke the gaze, shifting in his chair. He scratched his arm, gazing back out of the window.

My eyes narrowed. Broken gazes were the body traits of liars, I'd read enough novels to know that. There was something he wasn't telling me. "Jake, what else?" Silence. Jacob was still looking away, almost completely still, unresponsive. "Jacob, can you please stop ignoring me, I-"

I stopped, as I spotted a tear trickling slowly down his cheek, reflecting the orange glow of the light. I blinked. "Jacob?" I leaned over the table, brow creased, alarmed. "Why are you crying?" I tightened both my hands around his large one, squeezing tight. "Come on, Jake, talk to me, please."

He ripped his hand from under mine, pulling away from the table and standing up to his full, enormous height. He pushed his fingers fiercely through his hair, and his expression was inexplicably furious, tears building in his eyes.

A loud crack resounded around the silent kitchen as his chair, which he had sent flying when he stood, hit the floor.

I watched him, mouth open, unsure how to respond. He was taking me completely by surprise. Jacob had been so contented, so happy lately. An almost constant euphoria had ruled his emotions for the past half-year, ever since he'd asked I'd said 'yes'. He had convinced himself that I was finally moving on, and I hadn't ruined his delusion; not as far as I knew, anyway. So I didn't have any idea what had made him so upset. Surely getting arrested wouldn't affect him this much; it wasn't like he'd never been in trouble before.

The silence in the kitchen was suddenly slashed as he ripped open his mouth and began yelling furiously. I jumped.

"I was so sure I'd got over it! I was sure that it wasn't ever going to happen again, that I'd gotten _in control_," his voice was bitter. "But it turns out that I'm still the same, that nothing's changed at _all_! It's just such _crap_! And of all the _shitty_ things in the world, I never thought- I thought I was clear, we were clear, that we could move on and be happy, just _you_ and _me_!" His voice broke on the last word, and his face collapsed.

I pulled my chair out and ran over to him. "Hey, Jake, hey hey hey," I said, my attempt at soothing him somewhat pathetic. "Hey, come on, what is it?" I put both my hands on his shoulders. It wasn't often I had to comfort Jacob- it was usually the other way around, seeing as I was the one who had the most issues, the one who was the most messed up.

But it would be so much easier to help him if I had a clue as to what was the problem.

"Jacob, I _don't understand_." I fought hard to keep the frustration out of my voice, but didn't fully succeed. I searched his face, having to strain my neck to see him properly. His face was lit in the sickly-warm glow of the kitchen light, and his body cast a shadow over me.

He clenched his hands into fists in his hair. "Bella, that… _guy_," he spat the word, "He- he got me so mad, and then I couldn't stop worrying that you'd be… angry with me, because I acted like a complete…well, idiot, that maybe you might… that maybe I'd screwed up so badly that you might- I mean, I got _arrested, _and you've seen all those wives on T.V....I just... I thought that you might be too mad to move on, and…" He broke off. I was about to violently negate everything he just said, but he carried on before I could start. "I got out of the police station before anyone saw, but…but… I did the werewolf thing again, Bella."

There was a slight pause while I absorbed this. And then I stepped forward, wrapping my arms around his neck. "Oh, Jake…"

I held him tight, and his hands fell limply to his side. Now that I knew, I noticed that his skin was hot again. He had been getting steadily colder ever since he had given up being half-wolf, but now he was as scorching as he had been as a teenager.

"I'm so sorry, Bella, so, so sorry, and I'd completely understand if you wanted to… wanted to call it all off-"

"Call what off?"

He sniffed violently, and ran his fingers through my hair. "The wedding."

I pulled away from him, meeting his wet eyes and giving him a weak smile. "Jacob, why would I want to do that?"

He stared at me hopelessly. "Because I promised you that I'd give it up! Move past the wolf thing for you, for the wedding. The fact that I wasn't aging pissed you off, and even though I look old, I'm really still a teenager, and you're, what, twenty-two?" I winced; I did not like to be reminded of my age. "The whole reason we moved away from Forks was to get away from all the supernatural crap. And I don't want you in love with another monster. Loads of reasons."

I tried not to react to the mention of Edward. Even though Jacob knew instinctively not to say his name anymore, he still let slip these little mentions, and it was so, so hard to concentrate on Jacob's inner turmoil when a huge hole in my chest was banging away like a medieval gong. I closed my eyes, putting the familiar pain under control, and then focused on reassuring him.

"Jacob, I have spent too many sleepless nights planning this whole ceremony to call it off for anything short of our deaths, understood? Besides," I stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "You aren't a monster, and even if you were I wouldn't care. I love you. I wouldn't want to stop this wedding even if we were just going to Vegas."

It made me feel awful when I lied to him. But I had decided long before now that this marriage was not for me. I had lost my chance at true happiness long ago; the least I could do was to keep Jacob in high spirits. That was the reason I insisted on the white dress and church; not because I wanted them, because God knows I did not. But they made Jacob happy, and that was the whole point.

He put a hand behind my head and guided my lips to his mouth. I closed my eyes while he kissed me, trying to enjoy it as I should. And trying to stop comparing this to other kisses I had had. Because that wasn't fair.

I pulled away after a moment, resting my hands around his cheeks. Our faces were close; Jacob was bending down and I was looking up, and I saw his eyelashes flutter as my breath fell on them. "Giving up being a werewolf was never going to be easy, Jacob." I whispered. "You'll get there eventually, but the whole wolf thing is part of who you are. It isn't going to go away after just a couple of years, you know that."

Jacob looked into my eyes for a second more, bit his lip, and then slowly nodded. I lifted my hand and wiped away his tears, and he smiled weakly. "Sorry," he mumbled, placing his hands on my hips and pulling me against his chest. He spoke over my shoulder. "I overreacted. I just get so worried about losing you."

I frowned at the kitchen door, unable to see his face because he had me clasped to his body. "Why would you lose me?" The position was uncomfortable and I hoped he would let go.

He shrugged. "Same reason as always." There was a pause. He seemed to expect me to already know the answer.

"What reason?" I asked. He sighed.

"I'm not good enough for you."

I struggled and pulled away, incredulous. I stared up into his eyes; Jacob, my rock, my lifejacket in the sea of hopelessness in which I had floated for so long, and the one constant I had to look to. The sweet, caring boy who had turned into the strong, kind man I loved so much. The thought someone like Jacob would think himself unworthy of _me_… me, the girl who spent almost all of her time wishing she could have her old boyfriend back, the girl who still had a hole in her chest that she refused to let Jacob fill, no matter how hard he worked at their relationship. His thinking that he didn't deserve me was like Jesus thinking himself undeserving of a lap-dancer. Utterly ridiculous.

"Jacob…" I said, without knowing how to finish the sentence. "I…"

He shook his head. "I know what you're going to say, and we'll never agree on it. Can we just go to bed? I have a court hearing tomorrow."

"Court?" I asked, surprised. "Why are you going to court?"

Jacob's fists clenched, but his face remained calm. "Y'know, charges were pressed. And the cops never like to miss a chance to tell me what a bad boy I am."

I pulled a sympathetic face. "It'll be over soon. Tomorrow, that's _really_ soon."

Jacob scowled. "What can I say, that guy must have had influence." He looked angry again, and I was about to tell him that under no circumstances could he spit inside the house, when he sighed. "I suppose it's for the best. I'll just get the thing over with and hope the fine isn't too big. God knows we can't afford it." He put his hand around my waist and we walked out of the kitchen. "I guess I should just be glad we aren't in Forks. Your Dad would not have been impressed."

**...**

**Morning spreads weary and pale over the suburbs. Inside the small, squat houses, televisions blip into life and cereal packets are slammed onto worktops. A wolf rolls over as the girl next to him slips out of bed. Children hear their parents wake and glance at their alarms, but it's too early, far too early, and they roll over and sleep leaks through their minds once again.**

**A teenage boy walks quickly up the street, pulling down the zip on his tracksuit top. He absently throws newspapers into front yards, grinning if they land on doorsteps and speeding up if they land in flowerbeds. Dogs bark at him from behind closed gates as he goes past, their cries piercing through closed curtains and unconscious ears. The old woman who lives in number three hundred and seven glances up from her fag and smiles at the boy as he passes. He smiles back.**

**A cat walks slowly along the pavement, its movements slick and smooth, the fur around its feet wet from the puddles in the road, the bell around its neck tinkling as it walks. It crosses the path of the boy as he walks along. He cheerily tells it to get the fuck out of the way and it glances up at him haughtily, slinks away.**

**A van rumbles along the road and heads towards a city which looms on the horizon.**

**...**

It was only the next morning, the sky gloomy and overcast and a light rain sheeting down outside, that I began to question Jacob's excuses.

I always woke up first. Sleeping hadn't been a particular talent of mine for four years, and even though being with Jacob seemed to have stopped the incessant nightmares, I never slept comfortably. But that was okay; make-up hid the dark circles under my eyes, and Jacob always needed a big breakfast.

As I boiled eggs and toasted toast, I thought about his justification for the whole getting-arrested-then-exploding-into-supernatural-being exploit last night. It suddenly seemed so improbable, that some random stranger had got to Jake _so _badly that he had lost control and transformed for the first time in about two years. Sure, Jacob wasn't the calmest person, but he wasn't the no-fuse fist-fight jailbird that yesterday seemed to have made of him. Of course, when he was younger he'd got into fights with his friends; but only when they were all huge wolves and couldn't do each other any harm. This was different. This was aggression that he was going to court for, and the "I haven't been getting much sleep" defence did not seem as credible in the bare light of day. There was more to this. There had to be.

"Morning, Bells."

I rearranged my expression from that of uneasy confusion to one of relaxed happiness, and turned to hug a yawning Jacob. He smiled, crushing me against his incredibly hot body, and kissed my forehead. "May I say that your ring looks especially wonderful today? Especially teamed with this gorgeous pajama look you've got going here," he joked, and I laughed. He smiled against my skin, and sniffed the air. "Eggs?" He asked hopefully. I nodded, glancing over at the clock.

"They need a couple more minutes."

Jacob went and sat down at our small table. Everything about our house was small. It was a little bungalow, on the dejected outskirts of the city, with a kitchen, bedroom and bathroom. We had about as much money as you can fit in the back pocket of your jeans; I was taking a correspondence college course and balancing a receptionist job at the local hospital, and Jacob was working full time in a nearby garage. What with the house and the course and the imminent wedding, we were deeper in debt than I liked to think about. The lack of room wasn't top of my list of complaints.

"You know, I almost forgot about the court thing…I'll have to ring work." Jacob groaned, leaning back in his chair. "Tell them I'm ill or something. I'll probably have to work this weekend to make up for it." He ran his hands through his hair -it wasn't as long as it used to be, but it still reached his chin- and scowled. "Which means I'll miss the suit fitting or the stupid flower woman-"

"Hey," I interrupted, "don't worry. I can handle it. If you make up on Saturday, and I make up on Sunday, then you can do the fitting-"

"What are you making up for?" He asked, looking confused. "You haven't skipped work or been ill since you started there."

"Wake up, Jake, I'll have to make up today because I'm coming to your hearing," I reminded him, bringing the eggs off the boil and pouring the water down the sink.

"_You are not_!" He suddenly yelled with startling force. I jumped about a foot in the air, dropping the pan on my foot and yelping. The eggs rolled out onto the floor, and the remaining water landed on my bare feet and splashed out everywhere. It scalded my skin and I yelped again, jumping out of the way.

"Jake, what the-" spinning around, I saw Jacob on his feet, eyes wide and already shouting. I had missed the first part of his tirade when my foot was being battered and burned by the pan and its contents, but caught the rest quite clearly.

"…can't go, I don't want you there, I didn't even think you _thought_ you were coming-"

"Well of course I'm coming!" I shouted back, my teeth gritted against the pain from my foot. I lifted my leg and rubbed it but it didn't appease the burning. "What, did you think I was going to make you go to _court_ on your own-"

"I don't need a babysitter!" He bellowed at me.

I backed away slightly, intimidated by his sudden and unprovoked anger. "Jake, why are you getting so worked up? It's not like I'm asking to come with you to some sort of embarrassing doctors examination, I'm just trying to be supportive-"

"I don't want you there, Bella! I don't need the support, and I don't want you to come, okay?"

"But why?"

"I just _don't want you there_!"

I stared at him, as his chest heaved and he glowered at me. His dark-skinned face had paled, and I realised with shock that he was actually _scared_. This was the second time in the space of about ten hours that he had hugely overreacted to something. What was going on? What was it about this whole business that irked him, worried him, so much? Why was some stupid tiff with an absolute stranger causing him to so utterly change character?

I quietly made my decision. I was going to find out. I was going to that courtroom today, and if that meant I had to ride my bike instead of going in his Rabbit, then so be it.

"Alright," I said, quietly, raising my hands. "Alright, Jacob. Just calm down."

There was a silence. His gaze drifted down to the floor, and to the carnage of breakfast, and he pulled in his lips. His face lost the paleness and grew red as he flushed.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his tone timid now.

"Fine," I answered, and my voice was curter than I had intended. "Just… sit down." I picked up the pan, and the four remaining intact eggs. Laying them in the sink, I picked up the mess of shell and egg white that was all over the floor. The silence in the kitchen grew steadily louder and more uncomfortable. I heard the scrape as Jacob pulled his chair in, and sat.

The toast was burnt, so I threw it away and put more bread in the toaster. I laid the eggs on plates. I could hear Jacob moving uncomfortably behind me, but my irritation that he was hiding something from me prevented me from telling him he was forgiven.

"What do you want to drink?" I asked him, walking over to the tiny fridge, and trying not to limp.

"No, Bella…" there was another scrape, and he was abruptly by my side. "Sit down. I'll do this."

"Jacob-"

I looked up into his face to argue, but his dark eyes were so full of shame and remorse I didn't have the heart, so I nodded, and did as he asked. I watched his huge form as he grabbed the juice cartons and glasses, and carried on getting breakfast ready.

I was really worried now. Of course, we had both been getting tenser and tenser over the past couple of months; organising a wedding was far more trouble than I had imagined. Late nights and ceremonial arrangements and meetings with flower people and dress people and cake people, coupled with work and our constant money worries, were gnawing away at the lengths of our patience, like mice and electric cables. But still, Jacob had been irrationally and inexplicably weird over this whole thing. Since he had decided to give up werewolf-dom and settle down with me, he had been becoming steadily cooler and calmer. He had fallen into the routine of regular, non-paranormal life so well he had even made me feel more at home. He had made this whole marriage thing feel less like a betrayal.

Well, it had made me feel like I was betraying Jacob less. I still saw the perfect, pale face in my head, and still felt like I was breaking a very important tenth commandment. I had to remind myself constantly that I did not belong to Edward Cullen anymore. That bond had been severed long, long ago, and although it still hurt to think about him, it was long since time to at least pretend to move on. For Charlie, for Renée, and for Jacob.

But Jacob's absurd behaviour unsettled me. I needed to be at this trial. I needed to try and work out what was wrong, because he didn't seem to want to talk about it, and it was causing a rift between us.

"There you go," he said, bringing me out of my reverie and laying orange juice, buttered toast and two eggs on the table in front of me. He sat opposite, putting down his own identical meal, and started to eat. I smiled weakly at him, and handed over my extra egg.

"You sure?" He asked.

"Sure," I said. "I'm not hungry."

He smiled back at me, and we continued a disjointed and uncomfortable conversation, avoiding the topic which most needed discussing. He seemed to be trying to make up for the argument, judging by the ridiculous amount of compliments he threw into the dialogue; but still he did not invite me along to the trial.

The ordeal was finally ended when he went off to call his work. I washed up quickly, so I could shower and get dressed. I doused the plates in cold water (it might make me shiver and perhaps not get rid of as many bacteria, but it costs less, and I didn't really care about Jacobs germs; it wasn't like he didn't stick his tongue into my mouth on a regular basis) and put the dishes away still wet. I left the kitchen quickly, shutting the door behind me.

I walked past the bedroom on my way to the bathroom, and almost chuckled as I heard Jacob fake-coughing into the phone. It was definitely wiser for him to lie. He might get fired if the garage owner found out he had been fighting in public, and I seriously doubted I could go long without food if we weren't able to afford it.

The bathroom was the smallest room in our small home- barely two foot square, and the shower door only partially opened as it was blocked by the sink. I breathed in as I slid inside.

I turned the shower on lukewarm, but then gave up and turned the heat on full blast. I was too stressed to be economical right now. I relaxed under the hot stream, lathering up shampoo in my hair, and let my head hang back so the water fell onto my face. It poured down onto my skin and I screwed up my eyes, feeling it rush down my face and fall off my chin. My body loosened up as the drops pattered down it, warming and waking me fully. The windows of the shower misted over and dribbled, and the air around me was full of steamy particles of drifting water. The soapy water from my hair streamed across my chest, along my arms. I realised I had been unconsciously frowning, and the sudden release when I relaxed my forehead was brilliant.

My mind wandered as I stood in the stream of water, and I absently meandered along tracks of thought which my mind mapped out for me. Staring absently at the milky condensation, I took random turnings and thought on one thing which was connected to another, which led to another. I pondered the wedding and work and colleagues and Jacob and whether I needed a new front light on my bike and wondered if we needed milk and wondered what Jacob was going to do, what was going on in Jacob's head, why Jacob was so worked up, what could possibly have happened. The water ran thick and fast through my hair, over my eyelids, down my legs, and pooled at my feet. I watched it flow down the plughole and sighed, running my hands over my face. I couldn't stay in here forever.

I leant my head back, making sure all the soap was out of my hair, and turned the shower off. The final drops of water pattered against the shower floor and the plug choked as it gushed down it. Everything was suddenly very quiet, and I breathed in the heavy, wet air.

I squeezed out of the shower quickly and the air outside it was cold. I wrapped my towel around my body and shivered.

The mirror above the sink had fogged over, and I wiped the condensation off with my arm. Catching my reflection, I stared at my face, and the serene expression I wore vanished as I peered at my countenance.

I looked older. Not old, not wrinkly or anything, but _older._ Not a teenager anymore. None of that immature roundness was left in my features. My face was longer, thinner, the cheekbones more prominent. The dark circles under my eyes didn't make it any better, either, and they were more visible against my pale skin than they were on most other people. My hair was cut shorter than I had had it as a teenager, not quite reaching my shoulders, and curling at the ends; water trickled from it and ran down my shoulders. My appearance had changed a lot, and it did not make me happy. I wasn't the same person I had been with Edward, and I liked this Bella less. She was tired, old, and stressed. I missed carefreeness. I had almost forgotten what it felt like not to be exhausted.

I sighed, turning away from the mirror, and stared at my tiny bathroom. Back then, four years ago, it had felt like I had so much ahead of me, so much to look forward to, so many opportunities. Now I was stuck in a receptionist job, which pushed me to socialise and talk to people and generally be outgoing, something which was definitely not me. I was heading into a marriage that I did not want. I owed so much money to so many people it made me dizzy to think of it. I had lost so much; I almost felt cheated. I deserved to do so much better than this. I was a smart person, I had always worked hard.

And it almost felt good to blame Edward for my failure, tell myself that he had screwed everything up. It wasn't really his fault, but it was still comforting to lay all the guilt on his shoulders. To think back and point to that forest and think, there, that's where it all went wrong, right there, and it's not my fault I'm a disappointment.

"Bella!" Jacob's rough voice called for me, muffled by the door.

I took a deep breath, let it out, and fixed a wide smile onto my face. "Yes?" I replied, taking the one stride necessary to reach the door, and walking out into the hallway. The even colder air hit me like a slap in the face, and goosebumps sprang up on my arms. Jacob was stood there, waiting. He glanced down at my towel, and grinned in a way which made me wish I was wearing more. Then he gestured to his faded grey suit and the off-white shirt underneath.

"How do I look?" he asked, trying to be jokey.

"Very professional," I told him.

He looked down at his clothes, and shoved his suit sleeves up to his elbows, baring his dark, muscled forearms. I sighed inwardly at the thought of all the creases that would cause. Oh well; he had beaten someone up. I'm sure the judge wasn't expecting some Ivy League graduate who dressed entirely in Prada. They weren't expecting Jake to be Edward Cullen.

"Well… bye," he said, pushing up one side of his mouth in a grin-and-bear-it sort of way. His cheek piled on top of the end of his smile. "Wish me luck."

"Good luck," I said, standing on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "Who knows, maybe they'll let you off."

Jacob grimaced. "Not likely," he said, then a slow smile grew across his face. "I started it," he said, with a sort of relish I disliked, his eyes lighting up and his smile turning proud. I narrowed my eyes slightly at him, and he caught it, his face quickly returning to its regular expression, and continued. "And the other guy…. he has… y'know, money, power." He shrugged. "It's done now. I'm just sorry to cause you more worry."

I was so glad I never let him know just how worried about everything I really was. It would break his heart. "Don't worry about me." I told him, taking his hand and squeezing it. "You better go; you don't want to be late."

He sighed. "No, guess not." He bent down and kissed my lips. I tried to respond enthusiastically, and pulled it off reasonably well. Jacob pulled away after a while. "I'm sorry about this whole thing," he apologized again. "And thanks," he added.

"For what?"

"For just… being so understanding about it all. I screwed up, and you handled it much better than I deserve. I really, really am so, so-"

"Jacob, you'll be late," I interrupted, "You don't need to apologize to me; save it for the judge, we could really do with the fine being lowered." He smiled, nodded, said "bye" one last time, and then he was gone. I stood by the door, and listened for the sound of the Rabbit starting and leaving. There was the bang of Jacob forcing shut the ill-fitting door, the revving of the engine, and then the scrape as the car pulled off the gravel and out onto the road. I rushed into the bedroom.

I rang the hospital quickly, and putting on a weak voice and violent cough. They bought it, and I thanked heaven when they asked me to work Sunday- Jacob could do his suit fitting. Then I threw on the only jeans I owned, and a shirt and sweater. I grabbed my biker boots and struggled to get my feet into them. I tied them halfway up, grabbed my jacket and helmet, and ran out of the house, locking the door behind me.

My bike was leaning, chained, against the back of the bungalow. I threw on the jacket and jammed the helmet onto my head, where it flattened my wet hair against my scalp, and switched on the engine. I unlocked the chain, and pulled the bike away from the wall, struggling slightly with the weight of it. I swung my leg over the seat, and twisted the handle into gear, jolting as the engine growled, hissed, and roared. I flicked the handle, and sped round the house and out of the gateway and along the road as fast as was possible. I was going to get to the bottom of this, and Jacob wasn't going to stop me.

**...**

**The city is just groaning into life.**

**Pigeons are shuffling over damp grey pavestones and nibbling at rubbish which was dropped during the night. Curtains are being pulled open and the sun is slicing weak and pale into sleep-warmed homes. Early morning DJ's play upbeat music and couples in bed groan, lash out, exclaim that it can't be morning, not yet, I swear five minutes ago I was just going to sleep, and why the hell are they putting dance music on at this hour of the morning, are they insane? Shops are switching on lights, opening tills, checking stock, rifling through CD racks and saying that today is definitely an ABBA day because they feel like shit. Blinking workers are locking doors behind them and counting change, trying to remember how much a skinny grande caffé mocha with whipped cream and chocolate costs, exactly, and wondering whether they'd have time to drink it before the bus leaves.**

**The sun parts the clouds wearily, stretching out weak arms and pushing them aside, and the valley in which the city lies is lit up in a cool bleak ray of white. The wind ruffles sleepily through the air and the persistent rain falls lightly, as if it can't quite be bothered.**

**A black Mercedes winds through the half-empty streets of the city, the sun glinting off the shined bumpers. The windows are shaded and the windscreen wipers slide back and forth, back and forth, so that we can catch glimpses of pale faces. White teeth. Red lips. Golden eyes.**

**A few miles outside the city a ramshackle and rusted car, which has been pulled back from the dead with worn out seats and an engine which inhales fuel, jitters slowly and irregularly along the highway. The radio crackles bad music from a badly tuned station and the tall, russet skinned man inside glares at the road as he drives on. He is trying to ready himself for the hours ahead.**

**Behind him a determined young woman with wet hair and dangling laces swerves out of her driveway, spraying gravel out onto the pavement.**

**The day has arrived and everything is beginning.**

…

**((review?))**


	3. into

**He is that fallen lance that lies as hurled,  
That lies unlifted now, come dew, come rust,  
But still lies pointed as it plowed the dust.  
If we who sight along it round the world,  
See nothing worthy to have been its mark,  
It is because like men we look too near,  
Forgetting that as fitted to the sphere,  
Our missiles always make too short an arc.  
They fall, they rip the grass, they intersect  
The curve of earth, and striking, break their own;  
They make us cringe for ****metal****-point on stone.  
But this we know, the obstacle that checked  
And tripped the body, shot the ****spirit**** on  
Further than target ever showed or shone.**

…

**Bella is racing through the decrepit and over-housed neighbourhood which is her home, her bike roaring through the bleariness of the morning, slashing through it like a knife. A battered street sign with a bent-over corner and a four bullet holes welcomes you to Cawdor and asks you to please drive carefully.**

**Graffiti grows over these buildings like ivy, yellow and pink and blue, Jezza nd Jaz in luv 4eva 2k4, fuk da system; opinions and feelings painted in three foot high neon and faded by the pathetic attempts of a police force which has long since given up. Abandoned cars teeter on street corners, rust splattered over them like dried blood, the windows blown out and craters where chairs should be. Fag ends lie between crumpled brown paper bags marked with two smug golden arches, and the pavements are so covered in gum that they look like they have developed an advanced skin disease.**

**The constantly falling rain collects in the potholes which mark the road, and her wheels displace the water, send it flying behind her like confetti. It patters down on the ground, and newly-grown rainbows spread over the surface of it, caused by leaked oils from second-hand cars and dodgy motors. The traffic lights splutter out a weak light which is invisible in the daytime, and several of the coloured circles are concealed by a layer of Sharpie ink. Nobody waits for the lights to change.**

**The houses are pebble-dashed and damp, with their windows splintered; round holes with cracks sprouting out of them, sharp and jagged; the offending stones litter front yards. Some windows are boarded up with planks of wood, bin liners, soggy cereal boxes, and the rain leaks through them and into the houses. Exasperated women swear at the resulting puddles.**

**An old man shuffles his way along the street, his fingers clutched around a pipe which he has never considered giving up. It is as much a part of him as his arms and legs are; he has had his pipe since he was a young man. Memories of a long life swirl within the smoke, turning and disappearing into the air. It puffs out of the corner of his mouth; his lips are pursed around the varnished stem. His hair is sparse and loops his head like that of a monk, and his eyebrows stick out and inch in front of his face, bristly and grey. His eyes are watery and clouded and his heart beats painfully, pump-pump, pump-pump, how much longer, how much longer. Not so long now, the smoke promises as it leaves his system. I'm nearly done.**

**He hears the bike from behind him and turns a saggy neck, watches it approach. The noise grows louder as the wheels fly over the road, and he watches the water spray up around it as it growls its way forward. He glances at the pothole beside him and curses, struggling to move faster, get out of the way; but she is upon him and the wheel hits the water and it rises up in a huge splash, and arcs, curves through the air. It lands on his clothes, patters against his skin, soaks his side. She flicks her head to look at him and she shoots him an apologetic glance; but she is gone too soon for him to notice. He sticks up his middle finger and curses her through the corner of his mouth. His words are foggy. Fucking kids, he says, fucking kids and their fucking jacked-up bicycles.**

**He watches her disappear around the corner and coughs, a huge coarse cough which rips his throat open and burns it. And once he's started he can't stop; they chug up his throat with the regularity of a steam train, and his body shakes with the force of them. He bends over and pulls his pipe out, hand clutched around his stomach, trying to keep them back. But it is a long time before they cease.**

**...**

I love motorbikes.

They raise the eyebrows of health inspectors worldwide and nearly gave my dad a heart attack, but I can't help it. I love the grinding roar of the engine, how it rises and falls as you change speed; how it steadily builds and builds and builds, and then suddenly falters as you brake, chuckles as you swerve around corners. I love the grace and ease. The liquidness of a vehicle which doesn't cage you in from the world; rather, it lets you become a part of it. I love how the vibration ripples through the bike and up your spine, causing your teeth to chatter and making you feel like you're just an extension of the machine. I love how the air arcs over my head and I can feel it pressing against my skin, feel it rushing over me in huge constant gusts. I love the notion of fighting with the wind; and winning.

It was a relief to leave Cawdor and launch myself onto the highway; the broad stretch of open road was a relief after the cramped dirt of the suburbs. I had hit rush hour; thousands of stressed drivers, who were more coffee than human, sat in their cars tapping on the steering wheel and gazing forward with unfocused eyes, quietly singing along with the songs on the radio. The traffic inched along the road painfully slowly. The rain slowed and stopped.

I pressed down on the gas and deftly wove my way around the cars, leaving a trail of blaring horns in my wake. I ignored the angry looks I was getting; I didn't care. It almost made me feel smug, watching the fat little cars stuck in a jam, while the congestion did not hinder me in the slightest. In, out, in, out, sewing my way through the traffic. You say it's unsafe but I'll be laughing when I get your parking space.

It didn't matter how fast I moved now; Jacob should already be at the court. As I turned on my indicator and veered off the highway into the city, my thoughts returned to Jacob. I couldn't stop myself worrying about him, worrying about how perplexingly stressed he had been, worrying about how desperately he had wanted me out of the way. I comforted myself with the thought that all my questions would be answered soon. In next to no time this whole business would be clarified.

But it struck me that I shouldn't _have_ to worry like this. Jacob shouldn't have secrets from me; he ought to be able to tell me anything. A relationship was supposed to be about openness; there was nothing about me I had been afraid to tell Edward, and nothing about him that I hadn't wanted to know, or that he hadn't been willing to say, right up until the end.

I silently berated myself. Here I was, trying to draw parallels again. I frowned and turned sharply up a back alley, cutting behind a depo and coming out in the main city. It wasn't fair, I told myself, it wasn't fair to compare Jacob and Edward. And then Edward's face was in my head again and I slowed down, waiting for it to dissolve into the backlogs of my memory where it belonged.

I shot past all the retail shops which lined the main streets, ignoring all the unbearably pretty supermodels who leered at me from behind designer glasses and perfect make-up. I had the same feelings towards shopping as I ever had: that it was a pointless exercise which resulted in unbearable tedium. And anyway, comparing myself to models wasn't something that boosted my self-esteem.

I passed the yellow front of the garage Jacob worked at and drove past the turning I usually took to get to the hospital. I glanced at the pedestrians as I sped along; they were clutching croissants and Starbucks cups, and glancing uneasily at the grey sky. I could easily tell the locals from the visitors; people from around here knew to carry umbrellas.

As I raced into the quarter of the city which housed the office blocks and town buildings, the traffic thinned. I drove past a few Mercedes and Porsches, but the roads were mostly empty- clearly the upper class didn't nine-to-five. I spotted a man in a suit unfurling his umbrella and walking faster. Casting a fleeting look to the heavens I saw that the clouds had grown darker. The temporary ceasefire apparently wasn't going to last much longer.

I had just pulled up to the court building when the first heavy drops started landing on the asphalt. I slowed down as I entered the small parking lot, and parked in the nearest available space. There were already quite a few cars here; obviously Jacob wasn't the only miscreant in the area. Peering around I spotted his Rabbit parked in between a black Mercedes and a Mini Cooper.

I switched off the engine, slid off the bike, and pulled out the little stick of metal that supported it. My hands were still tingling from the vibration of the motorbike, and I wriggled my fingers, trying to get rid of the funny sensation. Then I turned away from the bike and took in the building that stood in front of me.

It was an imposing one, with red brick walls and large windows looking into wooden interiors. Broad grey steps lead to a large and slightly daunting green door. Raindrops were falling onto the stones of the stairway, and left dark circles on the surface. I suddenly wished Jacob was here with me; it all looked very intimidating.

I took off my helmet and ran up the stairs, keen to get out of the ever increasing rainfall. I tripped over my own feet on the top step, and only just managed to stop myself crashing to the ground, halting my fall with my hand. I winced, stood up, and brushed myself down, cursing my own clumsiness.

I hesitated at the door; I was suddenly unsure whether or not to continue. Was I sure I really wanted all these answers? I pressed my palm against the cold hardness of the door, and thought. There must have been a reason Jacob hadn't wanted me to come. No minor issue would have caused his huge overreaction. Maybe I should just trust him and stay out of the way. That would be the rational solution.

The pattering of water was loud in the air, and the rain was getting heavier. I glanced behind me, watched the rain dribble down my motorbike, watched the raindrops slice through the air in a sudden downpour. I wanted to get out of the wet, and I wanted to know what it was that was being kept from me. I shook my head, slid my hand down to the handle, and opened the door.

I was met by a small, brightly lit reception, with dark green velvet sofas that had seen better days. I closed the door quickly behind me and took in the scene. The walls and carpet were cream, but dirty looking; there was a brown stain just by the heel of my boot that I certainly did not want to know the history of. A faint buzz hissed around the room, and the strip lighting shone bright and harsh. A water dispenser stood by the door, and a curved desk was on my right.

A severe looking elderly woman eyed me from behind this desk. Her eyes drifted to my helmet, then to my black leather jacket, and then her nose actually wrinkled as she took in my boots. I felt a blush colouring my cheeks.

"Hello," she greeted me frostily, with a sharp English accent. I smiled uneasily at her, but she did not smile back. Her pale dead eyes glared at me from behind half-moon glasses. I was suddenly very aware that my hair was still wet.

"Um, hi." I resisted all the Albus Dumbledore references that bubbled to my lips, and got straight to the point. "I'm here to see the trial." The phrase sounded more like a question. My voice seemed very soft and quiet next to hers, and there was a long pause before she replied; her eyes were fixed on my face and I felt like running away.

Finally, she nodded and sighed in a reluctant sort of way, before turning to her computer. "Come over, then, please," she said, tersely.

I unenthusiastically walked forward, and eyed the desk. It had very little on it: a pile of leaflets with titles like, "Your Rights" and "Effective Communities", a bowl of sweets, and a clock. I checked the time; there were eight minutes before the trial started. Eight minutes before I found out the cause of Jacob's abnormal behaviour. Because, no matter how hard he was going to try to keep this, whatever it was, from me, I would not let that happen. I was too nosey and I didn't trust him enough, was the plain truth, and I had to find out.

The receptionist spoke again, her tone curt. "Which one, please?"

"Sorry?"

She looked coldly up at me, and said, very slowly. "Which trial?" The lights reflected in her glasses and I blinked against the flashes of light.

"Um, Black," I replied, feeling stupid. "Jacob Black." I twisted my hands together and hoped she would hurry up. I didn't cope well in social situations.

She stared at the screen for a while, clicking keys and fiddling with her mouse. "Yes, here it is," she said suddenly. "Room four. Are you related to the defendant?"

"I'm his fiancée," I said. Her eyes shot down to my ring finger and her eyebrows arched. She eyed my clothes again before she gave me an icy smile.

"Yes, well, I can quite believe that." I waited desperately for the moment I could get away without seeming rude. "Toilets are in the hallway, next to the cloakrooms," she looked pointedly at all the leather I was wearing. "Feel free to hang up your... coat. The court session should only take half an hour. Have a sweet." She said all this very slow, with no inflections or emotion, and then turned back to her computer screen as if I wasn't there. I glanced at the bowl of nearly empty boiled sweets, and then turned away without taking one.

The corridor behind the reception was long and badly lit. There were about seven wooden doors on both sides of it, and a stairway at the end. Each door had a number, and I could hear murmurs coming from rooms one, two, three and four; the room Jacob was in. I glanced at the shiny, faded '4', but did not enter. There was still time for Jacob to see me and send me home. Besides, I had to hang up my helmet and coat before the british lady came and shot me.

I spotted the toilets and next to them was a door with the letters "Cloa_room" engraved in flaked gild. I pushed it open and hung both my illicit articles up.

The toilets were small wet and white, with a clinical smell and two cubicles. I glanced at my reflection in the large, grimy mirror which hung above the sinks. My hair was still embarrassingly limp and wet. I bit my lip in irritation, and cast my eyes around for a hand dryer; there was one next to the cubicles. _Bingo._

I bent my head under the hot air and ignored the burning, just ruffling it in the heat. One of the many perks of having short hair is that it dries really fast; it only took a couple of minutes and I was good. I turned back to the mirror. The dark brown strands hung around my face, and I ran my fingers through them, trying to reduce frizziness. I managed to get it almost straight, and then gave up. I didn't really care what the judge would think, and Jacob would be mad even if I entered that room looking like Audrey Hepburn. I stared at myself in the mirror for a second, taking in my appearance, then looked angrily away. I cursed the mirror, and headed out of the bathroom, shutting the door loudly behind me, and I was back in the corridor. Well. Time to make my entrance.

I felt ridiculously like some schoolgirl sneaking into a party that I wasn't allowed to go to. If Jacob had only told me what was going on, there wouldn't have been all this fuss. I padded across the carpeted hallway, and laid my hand on the handle to room four.

The answers to Jacob's weirdness were all in here. I pressed my ear to the wood and listened hard.

There were quiet voices coming from within, and even some laughter. I frowned. Who was making all the noise? Was that the jury? I hadn't even expected there to be one for such a small case; it was really basically just a disciplinary hearing. Maybe there were more people coming to watch the proceedings. Jacob had said the other guy was influential. Maybe he had a lot of equally influential friends.

I opened the door very slightly and slipped in, hoping to stay unnoticed. Shyness induced clumsiness which induced embarrassment.

It was small inside, not at all like courtrooms I had seen on T.V. There were two rows of benches for the onlookers, then the stands where the jury would reside (only there were no jurors, I had been right). A large light-wooded podium stood at the other end of the room, underneath a wide window. The rain slammed against it with the hard patter of hail. I presumed this podium was for the judge, who hadn't arrived yet; it was empty. Two small, lower podiums stood facing it, for the offenders to stand in. I saw Jacob in one of them; he was stood turned away from me in the one on the right, leaning over the edge, and clenching his fists against the wood. He had rolled his sleeves down, and the predicted creases lined the material.

The noise did not falter when I came into the room, and I glanced at the row of people in the bench to my left who were the source of the babble. They were all talking, and the one nearest to me was laughing.

I turned away before I fully took in what I had seen. As the images slowly clarified in my mind, I whipped my head back around and stared.

The laughing man had extremely familiar broad shoulders. He had familiar brown curly hair. Familiar bulging muscles, familiar deathly pale skin.

I _knew_ this person.

Emmett Cullen. There was no mistaking him. My lips parted in astonishment.

Emmett was still chuckling when he turned around to look at me. As our gazes met, his eyes grew wide, and he stopped laughing. We stared at each other. I was overtaken by astonishment, and could only watch on as his mouth opened, and his lips formed a word. My name.

A blonde figure next to him turned sharply, but I wasn't looking at them anymore.

My eyes had been wrenched upwards by some new gravitational pull—into another person's eyes. The gaze which came from the other podium.

My mind fell through and shock grabbed the corners of my eyes and drew them out.

_No_, _no, he can't be here, he can't-_

I felt my knees weaken. There was the pale face, perfect features, bronze hair-

"Bella!"

Jacob's voice sounded distant. I almost didn't hear him; all my senses were focused on the tall figure in the left hand podium.

I couldn't look away from the angular, ivory countenance before me. My mind was completely blank, empty, empty except for the words, _He can't be here, he can't be here, he can't be here..._

But he was. He was.

I stared, and stared, then stared some more. I couldn't do anything else. Nothing, nothing at all, just stare. My eyes were locked on his face, and his eyes were locked on mine, and he looked so alive and beautiful and exactly as he had been, as he always would be. His jaw was square and his cheekbones were clearly visible, and his eyes were wide and dark and rimmed by angry purple shadows. His hair was arranged around his head in that chaos which was so perfect, the strip lights reflecting in it, making it gold, bronze, red, copper, all at once, a million colours highlighted by the impossibly smooth whiteness of his skin.

I was paralyzed, my mind suddenly running a hundred miles a second and tripping over in the attempt to keep up with itself. Our gazes held, as though by some magnetic force; his mouth was slightly open, his chest shuddering slightly, as though the breath was fighting to get out. I felt my bottom lip part company with my top, felt it hanging a few millimetres away from it, quivering slightly.

It was him. It was him it was him it was him.

With this realisation, the bomb inside me which had tick tick ticked away for four years hit zero and detonated. The explosion ripped apart my heart, tore at every part of my being. I felt my senses go into overload, felt my chest buckle backwards against the agony. But I couldn't move to wrap my arms around myself, because those golden eyes were holding me still, immobile.

Edward's eyes jerked away from my face, and the connection was broken. It felt like something had been ripped from me, as if a cold hand had been plunged into my stomach and torn out my insides. I watched his eyes snap to my hand; staring at the ring finger. His gaze was more intense as he lifted his head and stared back into my eyes again.

Just the shock of seeing him again, unannounced, _here, _in the flesh, 3D, actually in front me- it was like a rug had been pulled from under my feet, and everything that had been the right way up before was slanted, changing angles in front of my eyes as I fell, falling deeper and deeper into those wide gold eyes, unable to regain my balance...

I vaguely heard a high, alarmed voice saying, "Jasper, are you alright?"

Hot, strong hands suddenly wrapped themselves around my shoulders, and Jacob's hulking form was in front of me. I continued to stare over at the podium and didn't even react to his appearance.

"Bella, let's get out of here, okay?"

I didn't react to his voice, either, just carried on staring at Edward. I was suddenly shaking viciously from the combined unbelievable shock and unimaginable pain which tore through my body. I couldn't break my gaze, and he did not look away. I was beginning to feel dizzy, the world around me blurring slightly, but I didn't know why.

"C'mon, Bells," Jacob said quietly, taking my arm and trying to walk me to the door. I found myself moving with him, all my energy focused on those deep, dark eyes across the room which were locked onto mine with the same solidness with which mine were locked onto his.

Jacob was walking backwards, dragging me out of the court room. He kept saying things to me that I did not hear. I had to speak, had to say Edward's name, call out to him, but when I tried I realised I had no air in my lungs; I choked on my failed words. I hadn't been breathing- that explained the dizziness- and I heaved in a lungful of air. My throat was dry.

I was unintentionally moving my legs, inadvertently aiding Jacob's attempts to forcibly remove me from the courtroom, and I tried wildly to speak, to call out. Edward was still staring at me. He looked beautiful, perfect, his hair, his eyes, his mouth his lips his suit, his hands wrapped tight around the edge of his podium, and even his shirt buttons were shining in the light. And the hurt of seeing him again was nothing, nothing compared to the wonder which took over my emotions as I stared dumbly at him.

I heard Jacob pulling open the door; saw the doorframe from my peripheral vision. I desperately swallowed, frantic to make some sort of noise, call out. I gasped, choked, dragged the words through my lips "Ed...Edward?"

Then I was in the dim, windowless corridor and the door was shut and Edward was gone.

I felt Jacob's strong hands setting me against the wall. I didn't act in response, just flumped down where he placed me. He knelt so he was at eye level, and cupped my face. He stared into my eyes, but I just stared. Stared at nothing, as my brain imploded and crashed.

"Bella?" He said.

I was struggling to process everything. Things I knew were true but could not be, realities and impossibilities, facts and imaginings, fought inside my skull. Had that really- could it really- why-

"Bells, snap out of it."

I blinked, and looked blankly at him.

His face suddenly seemed so normal, so unexceptional; his dark brows furrowed, his dark hair hanging around his face in straight, boring lines.

I struggled against everything in my head, tried vainly to work out why I was in this hallway when Edward wasn't. I shook my head, trying to clear it.

"Bella," Jacob shook my face gently. "Are you okay?"

Still the silence, as all the thoughts in my head flew away, to be replaced by a bright image of a perfect, pale face. Angular, with wide, golden eyes rimmed with dark, thick lashes. A square jaw, hollowed cheekbones, full lips. The image was branded onto my brain, and I let out a small cry.

Jacob's breathing sped up, and he leaned in closer. "I told you not to come, I told you!" He shook my face with his hand. "Bella, why don't you listen?

But I didn't pay attention to the reprimand.

Everything was suddenly crystal clear. I knew what I wanted, and it wasn't in here. I broke free of Jacob's hands, and struggled to stand up, reaching for the doorknob to number four. Any inkling of rationality had left my consciousness. All I knew was that I wanted to be on the other side of this door. The metal handle winked at me. I stretched out my hand to grab it.

I didn't even touch it. Jacob grabbed my shoulders and pushed me back onto the floor. "No, Bella, no. Don't go in there."

I struggled violently against his hold. "Jacob, get off!" I wriggled out of his grip, desperately reaching for the door, waving my arms frantically. All that I wanted, all I had ever wanted, was behind that wood. I had to get at it, get in there. I had to.

Jacob grabbed me around the waist, restricting my movements and hauling me back. I thrashed against his hold, kicking and shouting at him, but he didn't release me. Why wasn't he releasing me? I needed to get in that room!

"Jacob, let me go!" I stretched hard, trying to grab the metal of the handle; my fingers brushed the cold surface, but before I could grasp and twist, Jacob pulled me down again. "What the hell, Jake, I want-"

"I'm not going to let you in there, Bella," he said, quietly.

I processed these words slowly. Then I denied them.

"Jacob, _let me go_!" I yelled. I pushed against his arms, trying to break free, but it was fruitless. He was too strong. I yelled out again in frustration, but he did not liberate me. "Let go, Jacob, please let me go-"

"No."

I froze. I did not freeze because of what he said; I froze because of the way he said it. He spat the word, as if it were venom in his mouth.

Turning to him, I saw his face was hard, his eyes flat. He looked furious.

He took advantage of the lapse of movement to press me firmly against the carpet. "Bella, I'm not going to let you go. You can't go back in there. I won't let you."

The words tore at me. Surely Jacob would understand? Surely he wouldn't deny this of me? He knew that all I wanted was Edward. He knew that I loved Edward. He knew!

"Why?" I asked him. "Jacob, please!" I tried again to escape, but to no avail. I was trapped inside his arms.

His mouth stayed firm. He shook his head. I struggled against him once again, but he was using all his strength and I could not budge. I looked into his face, hurt, confused.

For a split second, his calm expression collapsed and a ghost of anguish flitted across his face. Guilt shot into my heart.

My mind cleared suddenly, with the sharpness of a strong mint, and I suddenly realised I had hurt Jacob. I stopped moving entirely, blinking harder and breathing heavily. I saw it now; saw why Jacob did not let me go. He loved me, and I loved Edward, and it hurt him.

But his face was composed again, as he spoke.

"I told you not to come, Bells." Jacob's voice was deep and level. He was in control of his emotions. Why couldn't I be in control of mine? "I told you to stay home, I told you." He leant in close, so our faces were barely a centimetre apart. "I didn't want to give him a chance to hurt you again." Jacob's voice was steady, low.

But it did not matter how reassuring his voice was, because he had just reminded me of a heartbreaking truth, something pivotal that I had forgotten.

_Edward Cullen did not love me. _

Edward Cullen did not love me, and being with him would hurt me again.

And honest to God, the only thought that went through my head then, was, "Oh."

Jacob's hands were around my face again, and his breath was uncomfortably hot against my cheeks. "I knew... I knew that you, you still..." He shook his head, and cleared his throat. "I knew I couldn't bear watching you go through that pain all over again, Bella. I couldn't let him break you like he did last time." The memories that Jacob's words dragged up were long buried and deeply rooted. They hurt to rip out.

Unaware of the mess he was making of me, he pressed one of his hands on my head, and stroked my hair. "I'm so sorry, Bella." He twisted his fingers in the dark strands. "I should never have lost my temper, I should have stopped and thought about what would happen to you. But when I saw him-"

He got into a fight with _Edward_.

I blinked a couple of times as I suddenly realised. That was why he had been so stressed. Why he had been so scared. Scared and worried that I would run after Edward Cullen and leave Jacob on his own.

Which was what I had just been trying to do.

_Well, _a little snide voice in my head whispered, _you know all you wanted to know. Hope you're happy now. _

But I wasn't. I wasn't happy. I knew the reasons behind Jacob's actions, but I definitely wasn't happy. The pain inside my body had increased hundredfold since I had left Edward's gaze, and I felt the flames of the fire that raged inside me, licking at my body, burning me away into a hollow shell. I wrapped my arms around myself.

Jacob caught the movement, and his face broke.

"See, Bella, see why I said- you-" he pulled me close in a tight, tight hug, and I felt myself tremble in his arms. I felt cold, shocked. I didn't understand my own emotions. The huge pot of confused feelings which mashed around inside of me were baffling.

And I didn't understand how it could hurt so much.

"I'm not going to let him hurt you," Jacob whispered into my ear. His lips brushed against my skin, and they were dry and chapped. I could feel every inch of him against me. "You're mine now, and I'm not going to let him even get close." I knew he thought he was comforting me, but the words were like daggers. "I'm not going to let him touch you." No, Jacob, no, no, no, please no...

I knew he was right. I should stay away from Edward. But the pain inside me didn't go away, it just grew, and I was shaking harder. Jacob wasn't going to let me go back to Edward. And Edward didn't want me anyway.

My thoughts were chaotic and blurry, but they wouldn't get out of my head. Jacob held me close to his hot skin, and I folded against his body, shuddering hard.

I knew that Edward Cullen was less than twenty feet away from me, and I knew that it felt like I had left half of myself inside that courtroom. But I also knew that Jacob, Jacob the boy who had cared for me, the man who loved me, the man I was going to _marry_, was here, holding me, and that I had wounded him.

Edward Cullen did not love me. But Jacob did. I owed it to Jake to keep him happy, and I had monumentally screwed that up. I had been stupid and delusional and disgusting. In a moment of sickening selfishness, I ruined so much. I was so totally _useless. _

"You're mine now," he had said. And as much as I didn't want to be, I was.

And it _hurt._

He held me close against his shoulder. "Sssshh," he whispered in my ear. I clung on, and he held me together as I shook.

I don't know how long we sat there. I wasn't thinking anything. My mind was bare. There was no way I could think about any of this now, no time for me to process it all. I just let myself slip into numbness, felt relief at the easiness of it.

I felt no need to stem tears; my eyes were strangely dead and dry. I shook like maracas in a food processor, but I did not shed a single tear. I just clung on to Jacob as my teeth chattered and my heart pounded.

After a while, Jacob shifted. "Bella," he said, softly. "Bells..." He gently took hold of my arms and untangled me from him. "Bella, I've got to go." He looked at me, afraid. I was still shaking and quivering, looking through my eyes but seeing nothing.

He sighed. "You can't go home on your bike, not while you're like this." There was a jangle, and he pressed a bunch of keys in my hand. "Take the Rabbit."

I didn't hold the keys, just let them lie flat in my hands. Jacob bit his lip and moved his head forward, looking deep into my eyes. He ran the edge of his hand across my face. His eyes were intense on mine. "You're all clammy," he whispered. "Be safe, okay?"

I just stared at him.

A woman walked past us, staring slightly. She was dressed in black and held a leather case; I supposed she must be the judge. Jacob glanced anxiously at her, then back to me. "It's starting... I have to go, Bells. I'll be home as soon as I can, I promise." I didn't reply. His face looked fearful, and he was completely earnest as he said, "Drive real slow. Don't crash and don't... drive off a cliff, or whatever, okay?" Pause. He shook my shoulders. "Bella, come on!"

I looked up at him, and scrunched up my strength. "Okay," I whispered.

He nodded slowly, squeezed my hand, and stood up. With one last worried glance, he slipped through the doorway. I was alone.

I didn't move for a while, just sat staring at the space where Jacob had been, unfeeling and still. My breath came in short gasps, but then evened out as I gave myself over to total numbness. The shakes faded. I was completely drained, exhausted.

I noticed the cold weight in my hands which was the keys, and I looked at them for a full minute before I realised what they meant. I closed a fist around them, and stood up.

I swayed slightly, but moved forward anyway, and fell straight over. I closed my eyes, my face against the carpet, eyes locked on the glimmering '9'. I clutched the keys tight in my hand and clenched my eyelids tight closed, mustering up strength into wobbling legs, standing up.

I needed to get out of here. I fumbled my way along the hallway, through the reception and past the disapproving gaze of the receptionist, and out into the cold, sheeting rain.

I blinked against the change in environment, and wrapped my leather jacket tightly around myself. The rain was falling heavily, and everything was wet and shiny. I took one step out onto the slippery step, slid, and fell down the entire flight. The world around me tilted and span into strange, alien positions.

I landed on my side at the bottom of the steps, rain falling around me and splashing up from the stone and onto my face. I tested my body to make sure that nothing was broken, and then continued to the car as if nothing had happened.

But so much had happened. I needed to get away. I needed to get away from the rain and away from this place and just away from everything.

I needed to go.

**.**

**((listen))**

**www(dot)youtube(dot)com(slash)watch?v=dcPgMxY9FKc**


	4. my

**The caged bird sings  
with a fearful trill  
of things unknown  
but longed for still  
and his tune is heard  
on the distant hill  
for the caged bird  
sings of freedom.**

**..****.**

I had driven out of the valley and left the city far behind me. The engine of the Rabbit gurgled under my feet as I drove, faster and faster and further and further, desperate to get far, far away. The rain was hitting the windscreen so hard and so quickly that the only thing I could see in the midst of the grey were the blurred orange glows of the headlamps from other cars. Sheets of water poured down the windscreen and turned the day dark, and the shapes of the scenery around me were completely gone. The world was empty, and I was more alone than ever.

I didn't know where I was going, but I knew it wasn't home. I couldn't face that tiny little house now. It was everything about my life I hated; full of worry and lies; and that feeling of being trapped, not being able to escape. I couldn't go back there, couldn't face Jacob's cloying attentions. I needed to be alone, and I needed to be far away from Knives, Cawdor, from everywhere I knew. I just needed to get away, away, away…

My fingers clenched around the steering wheel, my nails digging into the foam where the leather had fallen away. I could feel the rush of thoughts in my head about to burst the banks of my mind, and desperately I scooped them up and hid them behind doors and locks. I couldn't confront them just yet. I couldn't do it.

I followed the highway blindly, not knowing or caring where I was going. I drove on and on without any idea as to direction or purpose or time. The further I drove the lighter the rain got and soon I could see the other cars going past, the fields on either side of the road, the sky. The rain slowed down, going from a constant thudding to a sparse patter; and then weakened more, the sun shining down through tiny flecks of rain and lighting them up yellow. A blue truck flashed past me. A bird flitted across the skyline. A drop of water on my windscreen wobbled, and fell.

I didn't know which direction to go; I took random turns, and passed signs to places I hadn't even known existed. The scenery around became more open: wide fields, darker trees, sloping hills. I was all alone on the roads now; I saw no other cars for miles around. The cityscape was gone from behind me; I had left the valley completely.

I don't know how long I drove - the clock on the dashboard had been long irreparable- but I knew it was a considerable period. The only sense I had of passing time was the increasing pressure against the locked doors in my mind. The thoughts I had closed away pushed harder against the surfaces with every passing second, threatening to break through at any moment. I concentrated as hard as I could on keeping them locked, locked, locked... but little pictures kept popping up in my mind, little unwanted thoughts started straying across my subconscious; hello, I'm hell, I'm here to make you cry, look at me.

I closed my eyes against them, determined to keep them out- I didn't want the pain that came with the thoughts, didn't want it, didn't want it… My fingers dug into the wheel harder and harder, until little bits of foam embedded themselves under my nails. I clenched my eyelids shut tightly, concentrating on holding back the torrent, stopping it crashing over my head, because a tidal wave of that size would surely drown me in its depths; the muscles around my eyes hurt, as I clenched them shut, determined to lock away the thoughts that threatened me; I focused entirely on keeping it all locked away, away, away, making sure that the flood did not wash over me-

I screamed as the car lurched forward uncontrollably. I ripped my eyes open, tearing my foot off the accelerator and clamping down the brake so hard I jolted forward in the seat, hitting my head hard against the steering wheel-

…

Everything swam back into focus slowly. It was like I was at the bottom of a dark pool and I was slowly swimming to the surface, the light filtering down through the water. Everything around me was blurred and dark; but as I rose it grew brighter and more defined, until I broke the surface and the world was suddenly clear.

I blinked, taking stock of my surroundings. I was in my car, lying across the steering wheel. The seatbelt was cutting into my shoulder and I groaned, leaning back and undoing it. All I could see through the windscreen was a hedge. My head pounded.

I swore, putting my head in my hands and holding my fingertips against my temples, wincing as my fingers brushed across newly-tender parts of my skull. This was just the icing on the top of that crap little cake that was my crap little day. You'd think the hands of fate would just _lay off,_ seeing as they had already pretty much screwed up all of my foreseeable future; but no. Messing with Bella was obviously too much fun.

I took a breath, and leaned back against my seat again. I could feel my eyes heating up with the stress of it all, and I clamped them shut, determined to keep it together. But I felt like my head was holding too much, that very soon I would explode with the pressure of it all. The locked doors were rattling now, shaking violently. I knew I couldn't keep them shut for much longer. I braced myself. Better to face it here, while I was stuck on a deserted road miles from home, that to face it later, in full view of Jacob.

I took a breath, and let it all out.

It all rushed into my mind and drowned my senses, and air rushed through my lips as I clenched my eyes shut. All the faces and the memories and the heartache and everything that I had bottled up inside me for so long shot out the neck and popped off the lid and cascaded over me like a fountain. I could see everything so clearly, as if I was actually looking at it in real life, watching it unfold in real time. I could feel all I had felt, could remember all I had known, could see all I had seen. Pale faces, smiles, close embraces, and that feeling of comfort, of safety, of security. And with it all, came that feeling of loss, of something precious stolen from me, ripped out of my hands. The feeling of not holding on tight enough.

I pressed my fist against my mouth and drew my knees up to my chest, trapping myself between the steering wheel and the seat. I recalled words that had built my heart, and words that had shattered it. I recalled kisses; careful, sensitive kisses that had made me feel warm and wanted, and not-so careful kisses which had left me warmer and wanting. I remembered a time when I'd thought my entire life was planned out; a life that I had wanted, which I still wanted, more than anything. I remembered feeling secure, invulnerable, and excited. Excited about life, about prospects, about Edward and I forever and ever and ever, a long, perfect, fairy-tale relationship that was going to last eternally and never wane or break or alter. I had thought I would be with him for as long as the sun shone.

I laughed bitterly as I pressed my eyes against my knees and tried to press my eyelids tighter closed, trying to stop the tears, clenching tighter and tighter; but they squeezed out anyway. How naive I had been; how immature, how _stupid_. I had merely been a pawn in a mildly entertaining game. And now I was remembering, more clearly than ever, a time where I had been lost, a time of worthlessness, of pain, hurt and anger. A time when all I could hear in my head were the words pronouncing me unwanted; that little "No," that shot through my heart like a bullet and killed the person who I had been. I was different now, a different Bella. I wished I could have the old me back.

I heaved breath through taut lips and bit my teeth into the skin under them. I had been shoddily patched up, and now my seams were undone, revealing me as the little bundle of screwed up emotions and hidden agendas that I really was. The selfish, despicable, egotistical woman who was still in love with her high school sweetheart.

If I had ever thought I had moved on, even slightly, I knew know that I had been wrong. All these emotions had simply been bubbling below the surface, simmering away unnoticed; like a huge volcano, the pressure building and building until today; seeing Edward again had been the catalyst. Suddenly everything had erupted inside of me and had flowed through my body, engulfing my mind, soul, heart, engulfing _everything _in its path, burning and destroying. And I was still reeling from the shock of it. No, not just reeling- the pain physically _hurt._

Of course I still loved him, I had always known that. But somehow I had forgotten how strong the attachment was. The way I felt about Jacob was nothing, nothing in comparison. It was like comparing a satellite to the sun. Like comparing a mouse to a blue whale. A Medieval peasant to a Greek God.

How could I possibly even dream of having back what I once had? But then again, how could I not? It broke my heart a hundred times over.

I sat and wallowed in loss and pain for I don't know how long. I was, for the first time, fully coming to terms with the part of me that was missing; fully understanding that I was never getting that part back. There was a huge section of me that I had lost forever. I could have a replacement, of course; but a hollow, meaningless nothing of a replacement. Jacob hardly even touched the void.

No, that was cruel.

Jacob was… great. He was sweet and kind and he loved me, and that should be all I needed, all any normal unselfish person could ever need. But of course, I was me, I was high maintenance and spoiled and ungrateful. Jacob's love would never be enough for me. I would always want more; and it was the fact that I could not have more which tore at me. I was no better than a spoilt child. Worse, even, because I was playing with people's feelings instead of toys.

I wanted with all my heart to run off back to Knives and fall into cold arms and know I would be safe and loved forever. But I knew now that that could never be. And what I had realised in the courtroom was coming clear. I was not wanted, was not needed, by Edward Cullen anymore. And how dare I even think of abandoning Jacob? How _dare_ I long for it?

I bit into the skin of my fist, my face screwed up in the effort to hold everything back. My breath hitched and caught in the nooks and crannies of my throat and it was a long time before my body was still. The sun was sinking over the hill and a bird was perched on my bonnet, picking at the twigs of the hedge I had driven into. It looked at me and tweeted.

Slowly, I re-buckled my seatbelt.

Time to go home.

…

It was completely dark when I got back. Finding my way had been harder than I'd expected, and I couldn't pretend that my reluctance to return hadn't hindered my efforts towards that aim. I parked the car quickly, slipping out and shutting the door as quietly as I could. I glanced at the front of my home; the lights were all out. Hopefully Jacob would have given up waiting for me and gone to bed.

I ran up the pathway to the front door, silently cursing whoever it was who invented gravel. It must be the singularly loudest terrain known to humankind. I might as well have run across a pile of car horns.

The front door was unlocked, and I opened the door very slightly, slipping in. I turned around and closed it very, very slowly, so that the lock slipped home smoothly and soundlessly. Jacob was almost definitely asleep- after all, it was late- so all I had to do was undress and slip into bed without waking him-

"Bella?"

I jumped, my heart falling so fast I was sure I had digested it. The kitchen door opened and Jacob came into the hallway. He was rubbing puffy eyes and yawning; he had evidently drifted off while waiting for me. I watched as he blinked a couple of times, then reached out and switched on the light. His eyes squinted at the sudden light, and searched me frantically, apparently looking for lost limbs or slit wrists. Not finding any evidence of either, his eyes met mine; and I sensed a kind of hardness in his gaze that was not usually there. "Where've you been? Couldn't you have called me?" He said, and his voice was sharp.

"Sorry," I said, almost feeling genuinely guilty. He didn't say anything, seemingly waiting for an explanation. "I just went for a drive," was my pathetic excuse.

"You've been gone a long time."

"I got lost."

"Yeah, well, next time you go MIA on me, do you think you could check in?" He was waking up, and his tone was slowly growing terser. "I've been imagining your dead body sprawled out on a road somewhere for the past twelve hours."

"I'm sorry, Jacob," I said, truly feeling apologetic now. "I didn't mean to worry you."

I slipped my feet out of my shoes and made toward the bedroom. I had barely taken a step, however, before Jacob's hand was on my shoulder.

"No, Bella, we need to talk."

But see, that was completely what I did _not_ want to do. I had already talked things over with myself, and that had been hard enough. I was not prepared to unlock everything again in front of Jacob- as much for his sake as for mine. He didn't need to know what was going on inside my head. And he might not know it, but he didn't _want_ to either. He didn't want to know the truth about how I felt. He did not want to know and I did not want to tell. We did not need to talk. At all.

"No, Jake, we really don't-"

"Bella," he spun me around to face him. I felt like a marionette. I met his gaze and his eyes were burning with some hidden emotion. "I've been thinking about it all the time you've been gone- in between worrying about whether or not you were roadkill- and we- well, I, at least, really need to discuss this."

"Discuss what?" I asked, stalling. His gaze hardened.

"This morning. At the courtroom."

"There's nothing to discuss," I said, looking at the floor. "It was just a bit of a shock, that's all."

There was a silence, and I waited for him to say something. When he didn't, I tentatively raised my eyes and looked up into his face. Immediately I wished I hadn't, because his face was anger personified. His brows were clenched and his lips were pressed tightly together. I felt my face flushing. His hand was still on my shoulder and the grip tightened.

"Bella," he said, and his voice was only barely controlled, "could you try not to stretch my patience any further than you already have?"

I bit my lip. "I'm really sorry, Jacob-"

"I don't need to hear whether or not you're sorry, Bella," he interrupted. "You should be, seeing as you've scared me shitless today, but that's not what I need to know. I need to know what was going through your head earlier."

"Nothing," I lied, avoiding his face. I didn't need to see his expression, though; the force around my shoulder spoke for his response to my answer. "Okay, so I was a bit… surprised-"

"Well," he said, coolly, "that's one hell of an understatement."

That one sentence immediately changed the tone of the conversation. He sounded livid.

"Jacob, I-"

"If you were only 'surprised', Bella," he said, very quietly, "how come you completely broke apart in front of me? You get surprised all the time, but you've never absolutely _lost_ it when you've come home to find I've made the bed, or-"

"I-"

"If you expect me to buy that, you must think I'm really stupid," the vice-grip around my shoulder was even tighter, "if you think you can foist this off on 'surprise' then you've got another think coming."

He was shaking, and I was suddenly reminded that Jacob was no longer on a lycanthropic break. "Jake, I'm really sorry! But it was honestly-""

"You know what? What I _really _want to know?" His voice was getting louder and louder, "Above all of the other huge questions you've forced me to ask today, I want to know why the hell you were even _at_ the courtroom anyway, after I'd asked you not to come! What is it, Bella, am I that hard to trust? Just because I'm not some repulsive walking _corpse, _am I not worthy of your almighty confidence? Why didn't you _listen _to me in the first place?"

"I was just worried about you!" I said, desperately, trying to pull away from his grip. He didn't release me. "I was worried because you seemed so upset, Jake, I do trust you, I promise I do."

"Yeah, you've made a great show of that trust today, haven't you?" He was speaking louder, and little bits of spittle landed on my face. "I was so busy worrying about you that I completely _screwed _up in court, and we now owe _three hundred dollars _to some undead monster that should, in all rights, be locked up in the fiery pits of _hell-_"

"He carried on?" I asked, my eyes widening. "He still pressed against you?" I couldn't help the surprise. My shoulder panged and Jacob's fist clenched and his eyes grew darker. He glared down at me.

"Of course he carried on, he's a huge dick!" He spat. "He's a huge dick who, if you cast your mind back, proved himself as the world's greatest dick about four years ago, so there's no need to look so surprised."

I stared up and Jacob. "I- I know. I know, Jake. And I'm really, really sorry-"

"Yes well, so you fucking should be, Bella, because you fucking stamped on my heart today," he said, leaning over me and casting me in shadow.

"Jacob, you're being unfair-"

"_I'm_ being unfair?" he repeated, incredulously. "Cast your mind back, Bella: have _I _begged you to let me run off to a deceased _bloodsucker _today? Have _I_ completely disappeared off the face of the earth? If _I'm_ being unfair, what're you being?"

"I just needed some time alone, Jake."

"Yeah, I get that, I don't have a problem with giving you time to sort out whatever perverted mind-frame you've got going down at the moment. But would it have killed you to give me a call, just so I knew whether or not you were still among the fucking _living_, or whether you'd hurled yourself off a fucking _cliff_?"

"As if I would be stupid enough to jump off a cliff, Jacob!"

"Yeah, I wouldn't have thought you were, but you have been acting a little out of character lately," he spat, sarcastically. "A lot of things I thought about you have been shaken up a bit. Yesterday, I would have put money on the fact you loved me more than anything; but today, I'm not so sure I would gamble on that." He gave my shoulder such a pinch I cried out, but then he ripped his hand away and glared down at me. "You haven't been sitting here all day, wondering whether or not the person you love is alive or dead; I didn't have a clue where you were, Bella! The last time I saw you, you were a fucking _wreck_! I've been clawing out my own eyes! I rang the police! I rang your Dad!" He accompanied each of these phrases with a wild, angry gesture. "I rang every fucking person we fucking know, I rang the hospital; I rang your _mother_, and you know how much she hates me! I've been going fucking insane worrying about you, and then you come home at some Godforsaken hour of the morning, and your only excuse was that Edward life-after-fucking-death Cullen took you a little bit by surprise so you thought you'd pop off for a quiet drive? Not good enough, Bella! Doesn't cut it, not by a long shot!" He glowered down at me, his breathing heavy.

There was a cold silence while I absorbed everything he had said. Everything Jacob was saying was true; from the stuff about what a horrible person I was, to the stuff about love, to all the crappy lies I had told. His words fell through me like a bucket of cold water.

But I couldn't let him know how right he was, couldn't hurt him that way. I had to lie to him, had to keep things from him. To let him go would be to cause him pain, and I knew that doing that was merciless and unforgivable. My lies were for his own good.

"I love you, Jake," I said, quietly, breaking the silence. My voice was a little unsteady. "I only-"

But he cut in, and his voice was bitter and full of resentment. "This better be good, Bella, because you've really screwed me over this time."

"Jacob!" I said, my voice fraught as I tried to get my lies through to him. "I do love you, more than anything. It's just-"

"Just what?" he asked, loudly and viciously. "Go on, I expect you've been rehearsing this the whole time you were out. I'm ready for a world class performance-"

"I'm not acting!" I lied.

He snorted. "I'm not _braindead-_"

"Please let me speak!" I cried out, my voice breaking. There was another silence as I struggled to compose myself, stopping the tears and steadying my voice. "I… It was like..." I cast around for words. I could sense Jacob's impatience building- I could practically hear him tapping his foot. "Like…" My tongue stumbled across the words and I threw them through my lips as fast as I could. "Like seeing someone I thought was dead, just that. Imagine walking into a room and seeing your mom, Jacob. Would that not unsettle you a bit?"

Jacob seemed to contemplate this. His lips didn't loosen, and his brows stayed furrowed, but his eyes searched my face. "It's not the same," he said, finally.

"What? Jacob, it's exactly the same!"

"No, it isn't! I never _dated _my mom, Bella!"

"Just because I used to have a thing for Edward doesn't mean that I am still in love with him!" I yelled back, putting as much force into the lie as I could. "You've said over and over again what a bastard he was towards me, and you're right, he was!" The words hurt to say, because they were so, so untrue. "He disappeared and he left me behind! How can you even accuse me of still loving someone who could do that to me?"

"I don't know, you seemed to be really eager to get back into that courtroom!"

"Do you not remember how shitty my life was in the months after he left?" I started gesticulating almost as wildly as Jacob. "I behaved like a self-obsessed emo. I ripped apart my dad, I screwed over my friends. How can I still be in love with Edward, after all that?"

"You didn't seem so angry when I had to physically restrain you-"

"Jake, I don't know what was going through my head during that particular lapse in my mental abilities, but please can you not judge me on something I did when I wasn't entirely sane?" My voice was on a level with his.

"You mean, when you'd been 'surprised' into lunacy?"

"Am I marrying Edward Cullen, Jake?" I cried, "No, I'm marrying _you_! Why would I do that if I had any reservations at all about how much I loved you? Why would I have said yes if I wasn't completely, one hundred percent sure that you were the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with?"

"I wouldn't put it past you to lie!"

"Would I, Jake?" I said, struggling to keep my voice under control. "Would I really lie about something like that?" _Yes, _a little voice in my head whispered. _Yes, you would. You did. _

There was a pause. "I'm not perfect, but am I really that bad?"

I looked hard into Jacob's eyes, and his lips loosened. His eyebrows shifted, and I knew the word he was thinking. Part of me was begging him not to say it.

"No," he whispered.

But the thing was, that was _exactly_ the lie I had told. I was a _despicable_ person. I was going to burn in hell and I was going to deserve it. And I could lie to myself and say that I was doing this entirely for Jacob; but that wasn't true. It was for me, too, and more than a little bit.

"Jake," I whispered, laying my hand tentatively on his arm. "I'm really, really sorry about what I've done today, and how much I've hurt you. But if you can, then please, please will you believe me? Please?" I dipped deep into the well of deception, as I came up with another random piece of crap. "My life wouldn't carry on if you were gone. I couldn't make it through another heartbreak, Jacob; please don't make me." The words I was spouting made me sick.

He stared down at me, and I up at him. Jacob's face was as smooth as glass, giving no indication of what was going on behind his eyes. I felt my chest rise and fall rapidly as I waited for him to speak. My eyes were wide. My future as I knew it hinged on his next words. _Please let him believe me._

"I…" he said, his eyes staring into mine, his mouth moving as he searched for words. "Are you… I don't know if I _can_ believe you, Bells, not after-"

"Jacob," my voice was frantic, "I'm really, really sorry, honestly I am, please will you just trust me? I honestly, truly want to be with you, honestly I do."

His eyes searched my face, searching for a chink in my armour. I watched him, waiting, waiting, waiting….

His lips parted, and he took a breath. "Okay. Okay, Bella. I believe you."

"Thank you," I said, sighing, and wrapping my arms around him. He didn't respond, but he didn't pull away. I held him for a few moments, then took a step back, held his hand and looked up into his eyes. "It's late. Let's go to bed, Jacob."

He looked away, and nodded.

…

I lay awake much later, staring up at the dark ceiling, and thinking. Jacob was breathing heavily beside me. I was warm, that weird, comfortable warmth that only descends over you when you're in bed, when the duvet is shaped around you and the sheets curve about your body.

I couldn't escape the all-pervading feeling of guilt that washed through my body. Should I have told Jacob the truth, let him leave me? He definitely deserved better; he wasn't a bad guy, he at least deserved a fiancée who he could trust. And as long as he was with me, he could never have that. Was that the right thing for me to do? Yes, he'd be happy; he loved me, for some strange reason that I couldn't fathom, but he did. As long as I made him happy, did it matter that it was all an act?

But then, even if it wasn't the right thing to do, was leaving him really acceptable either? Could I really put him through the same heartbreak that I'd been through? What right had I to do that to anyone, let alone Jacob? The expression on his face earlier, as he had tried to restrain me from running away from him, burnt a hole in my mind. He had been so distressed, so upset. I couldn't do that to him again. I knew that I was incapable of hurting Jacob that way. I might be a liar, but I wasn't that cruel.

I carefully avoided thinking about what I would do if I left Jacob. I knew I still needed him.

And it wasn't as if I didn't love Jacob- of course I did. I would always be, if not happy, then _satisfied_ with him. But my love for him was like love for a brother, not for a husband. Every time I kissed him it felt deeply, deeply wrong.

But what could I do? Better to stay here, where at least I had a reasonable pretence of a life. There was nothing else out there for me.

I sighed, and glanced over at Jacob's sleeping form. I reached out a hand and placed it against his cheek, feeling the warmth there.

He might be a huge, tall, invincibly strong persona of paranormality, but to me he would always be vulnerable; I had to protect him, make sure he never guessed anything. As long as I lied to him, he could be happy. And that was all that mattered.

I sighed, and rolled over. Despite his closeness, despite the fact I could feel his breath upon my back, I'd never felt more alone.

**...**

**((r.e.v.i.e.w.??))**


	5. eyes,

**He can hear them talking. What happened and how and why and where is he, is he okay? **

**Is he okay. He looks out the open window and closes his eyes. He's not okay. He's not one bit okay. **

**The night has come suddenly, as sudden as wet fingers pinched around a flame, and the trees below rustle in a light wind. The valley dips down below him, curving around as if the earth had been scooped out. Hills leered huge and dark on either side of the flickering city, their flanks densely coated with coniferous trees. The moon is slight, a sliver of silver, and it disappears under huge looming clouds as they silently creep overhead. **

**The room he stands in is dark and almost empty. A small antique writing desk sits in one corner, a bookcase in the other. The floor is wooden, and a large persian rug stretches across the middle. A small fragile french sofa sits prim and proper against the wall, cushions with perky corners, curved bear-feet. **

**He listens to the voices coming from downstairs. He can hear the thoughts of his mother, and they're thoughts that worm their way into his heart, gnaw at his conscience. What if this breaks him again, she is thinking. What if he leaves again? I just got him back, she thinks, I just got him back and I can't lose him now. **

**But he can't stay, he can't stay here without crumpling up, without snapping into a million pieces, completely breaking apart. He can feel himself becoming brittle; he can see it in the way his fingers are slightly shaking, can hear it in the way his breath is shallow and jerky. He can feel that bubbling under the surface, that feeling of something shivering inside him, crumbling, dissolving. He knows that the smallest flame could set him on fire and burn him to the ground and he can't take it. **

**Her face fades slowly into his head, and he sees in it again the shock, the pain. He can hear her voice in his head, hear the way her heartbeats spluttered, hear how weak she had sounded. And he can't escape the knowledge that it's all his fault; that he stuck the dagger in four years ago and today he twisted it.**

**And that little silver ring. The little silver ring with the small white diamond, that little silver ring with the small white diamond that had looped around her fourth finger on her left hand. He can feel it around his windpipe and it's choking him. **

**The wind blows into the dark room and ruffles his hair. He can hear it whisper to him and it's almost like it's taunting him. **_**Happy now?**_** It asks. **_**You wanted her to move on.**_

**But he knows now he didn't want her to move on. He wanted her to move backwards and come to him so he could apologise forever and love her forever and hold her in his arms forever and forever know that she was safe, forever make sure she was happy. **

**There are footsteps, coming slowly up the stairs, and Esme's thoughts are reaching out to him. He glances behind him at the closed door. Light from the corridor leaks through the cracks and illuminates slices of the dark room. He thinks about running away. He could jump out of the window and run off, and none of them would be able to catch him. He could run and run and maybe if he ran fast enough these feelings inside wouldn't be able to keep up. He could leave them behind like roadkill and maybe then he would be able to look at her without nearly dying. He'd be able to bump into her in the street and say oh hello haven't seen you in a while let's get coffee and catch up. You're looking wonderful, how's the husband, how're the kids. **

**His heart screams at him and his face convulses and he rejects the thought, spits it out like it's a poison.**

**The door opens quietly, and he turns and sees Esme peek around the door. Edward, she thinks, Edward… and then she trails off. He looks away from her and back out of the window, his eyes roving around the valley. Edward, she tries once more. Edward don't leave me again.**

**He is silent for a while, then he takes a breath. His eyes are locked on the city as it flickers; he watches tiny cars as they slip in over the hills, drive along the dark wire of the highway, disappear into the square mass of the ugly, lopsided city. He takes a breath and he speaks.**

**She's down there somewhere, he says, looking at the lights. His voice is low, quiet, shaky. The wind runs away with it and Esme barely hears him. She sighs, walks over to his side, walks over to the window. Yes, she's down there somewhere, she says. But Edward, but. **

**He closes his eyes again and clutches the windowsill tightly, squeezing the wood and feeling it crack under the pressure. I can't do it, he says, I can't be near her, I can't have her this close and yet not have her at all, I can't do it. It's too hard. **

**You can't leave, she thinks, sharply. I'm not letting you leave. **

**Breath rushes between his lips. Splinters of wood break off and fall down the side of the house, patter patter patter on the ground. I can't get her face out of my head, he tells her. She's etched in my eyes. She's everywhere I look and she's in everything I hear and she's haunting me, Esme, I can't escape her. And I can't stop thinking that I could live forever; and here he pauses, looks at the night, screws his face up and tries to keep it together. I could live forever, he tries again, but in seventy years she'll be gone and I can't see any reason to keep on after that. I can't see any reason to keep on after today. It's as if I'm only still here because I know somewhere she is, he says, and I keep holding out for something that isn't going to happen and I can feel it breaking my heart, Esme. I can't do it.**

**He looks over at her and she is looking up at him and he can tell she's trying not to cry and he feels awful but it's the truth. She gazes up into his haunted eyes and she shakes her head. I don't know what to do, Edward, she thinks. **

**He looks out at the world below and breathes in cold night air. **

**I love her too much, he says. I love her too much to let her go again.**

**.**

**((..est-ce que tu peux critiquer?..))**


	6. for

**I keep on dying again.  
****Veins ****collapse, opening like the  
Small fists of sleeping  
****Children. **

**Memory of old tombs,  
Rotting flesh and worms do  
Not convince me against  
The challenge. The years  
And cold defeat live deep in  
Lines along my face.  
They dull my eyes, yet  
I keep on dying,  
Because I love to live.**

**.**

"No, Bella, no, remember the flat." I tried again, struggling to remember where the black key came, groaning as my finger automatically augmented. "Bella…" Marley sighed, and switched off the power. "Bella, what is wrong with you today?"

Marley is a child psychologist stroke married father of two stroke closet piano teacher who is literally one of the nicest guys I've ever met; but when it came to music he had the patience of a toddler.

"Nothing," I said, knowing that any argument was futile. I glanced around the staffroom, looked back at the dead keyboard, ran my fingers across my legs. I was wearing a skirt today and I had forgotten how much I disliked them.

"You keep making mistakes."

"I'm just tired."

He put his hand on mine, holding it still as I fiddled with my hem. Marley is a pretty tough looking guy; muscled and black and not a single hair on his head, somehow managing to look macho even in a cashmere jumper and white coat. But the really scary thing about him is that when he's in psychoanalysis mode, you can't hide anything from him.

"Bella, look at me," he said, and I couldn't stop myself from turning to meet his big, dark eyes. "What's wrong?"

I stared at him. What's wrong?

I had gone to sleep last night at four, and now my eyes were stinging and I had bags under them that made me look like I'd been punched. I hadn't been able to switch my mind off, and no matter how hard I tried to close my eyes, no matter how hard I tried to empty my mind, no matter how many sheep I counted; sleep had not come for me. The only reason I wasn't snoring was because I had made myself a flask full of espresso, and was taking shots of it like a tramp with a whisky bottle.

Jacob had been gone by the time I had woken. He had left me a note on the kitchen table (_"__There's a huge dent in the car- do I want to know?"_)but there had been no breakfast stuff laid out, no dishes in the sink, no water in the shower base. He had obviously been in a hurry to get out of the house.

Also, this week was the beginning of Med Student month. I couldn't go ten minutes without a student, who had lost their timetable or their patient list or their textbook or their plastic gloves or their hospital map, coming up to me and demanding that I produce their misplaced items. Like I had some kind of magician's hat that just spouted stethoscopes.

But I couldn't look away from Marley's eyes, so I told a small part of the truth. "Wedding stuff," I said, smiling weakly, determinedly keeping steady eye contact.

"Finding it stressful?" He asked, his deep voice sounding genuinely concerned.

"Yes," I said, looking back at the keys and running my forefinger along them. "Just… money stuff. And late nights." I wasn't lying to him; merely voicing _one_ of my many problems. "I suppose it's hard to concentrate on flats and sharps when I'm worrying about a million other things."

He nodded, smiled sympathetically, and turned back to the book, evidently accepting my excuse and choosing not to pry. "It'll all be worth it in the end. You need to watch this bar here."

I nodded, grateful that he had chosen to leave me be. We went back to the lesson.

I was terrible. Marley could only teach me every other day, and the only piano-like instrument we had managed to find was a second hand electric keyboard from the annual Knives Elderly jumble sale in the town hall.

But still, I found something strangely comforting about it. The melodies Marley gave me were simple -they had to be or I wouldn't be able to play them- yet they sounded pretty.

And it made me feel better knowing that for at least half an hour of the day I was taking control and working toward something positive, instead of sitting around moping. I felt that I was in the driver's seat instead of hanging off the exhaust pipe; here was something productive I was doing with a life that was in all other aspects a complete waste.

It was also a relief; while I was failing at playing I could lose myself. I could only concentrate on the music or I would get it wrong, so there was no room in my head for anything else_. _I could escape my life and live in a different one, where everything was much simpler and the only thing you had to worry about where the demi-semi quavers in bar thirty-seven.

Marley made me play the piece through about three more times, then groaned and elbowed me out of the way. "Flat, Bella, B flat!" I laughed, running my hands though my hair and shaking my head.

"I'm incompetent," I said, shifting my chair.

He smiled. "Thick as a brick," he said, and I grinned. "Watch a master at work." He ran his fingers easily over the plastic keys and the instrument regurgitated an electronic mesh of irritatingly correct-sounding music.

"You make it look so _easy_," I groaned.

He laughed, turning to me and flashing alarmingly white teeth. "I've been playing much longer," he said, in his slow, steady voice.

"I'm never going to be able to do it," I said, glancing up at the clock. It read twenty five past one, and I sighed. "I've got to get back." I switched off the keyboard and closed the book.

"You will get there. Bella, you've been playing for so little time you can't expect much of yourself." He took the book and put it in his briefcase. "It'll come. Your playing at present is just… a little different to how it should be."

I snorted. "Different is one word for it. Another's 'shit'."

He patted my head as he stood up, smiling. "The keyboard's shit, so we'll blame it on that."

"Of course we will," I said, "It's entirely the fault of that stupid machine."

He laughed. "You'll be here for our next lesson?"

"Yes," I said, standing up as well. "If I haven't been arrested for killing a med student."

He laughed, shaking his head. "I would pretend to disapprove, but I have almost been caught under that same charge." He walked over to the door and held it open for me. "Look after yourself, Bella. Don't worry about the wedding. It'll be the best day of your life."

Somehow I doubted that.

Marley set off for the psychiatric wards, and I reluctantly headed off for the reception. The corridors were quiet; a few visitors, an old man shuffling along the corridor with his I.V stand, a pair of tired-looking doctors, and a nurse on her mobile.

I reached the foyer to be greeted by a Cheshire-cat sized grin from Linda, my thirty-something year old fellow receptionist. Coming closer, I mentally braced myself for the avalanche of mindless smalltalk that was indubitably rolling my way. Linda was nice enough, in small doses, but there were only so many times I could pretend to be interested in TV shows that I did not watch.

"How was the piano thing?" she asked, spinning around in her chair to face me, her lips stretched wide over heavily whitened teeth. He hair hung straight and blonde around her head, and she ran it through two of her fingers; a nervous twitch. If her hair wasn't straight she would go home, no matter when her shift ended, and she would flat iron it for three hours, until it was either completely vertical or in a smoking heap on the floor.

"It was fine," I said, as I sat down in my seat and shook the computer mouse to wake the screen. The excel sheet flashed up, detailing appointments and times.

"I don't know how you do it, I'd never be able to work out all those fiddly little key things. Plus I need my lunch hour for gossip, and I'm not going to get that in that gross staff room. Don't you think that Dr Roberts looks a bit like a taller, older, bald Eddie Murphy?"

"Err…" I said, scanning the sheet. "I guess." I wasn't really listening to her; it was only a second or two later that I realised that by Dr Roberts she meant Marley. He did not look like a tall old bald Eddie Murphy. At all.

Linda sat back in her chair. "These med students are driving me up the wall. I mean, sure, some of them are a bit hot;" she shot me a glance and laughed her Linda Laugh. It was a witches cackle which exploded out of her mouth with the force of an atom bomb and shook her whole body. "I know, I know, they're too young for me, but a girl can dream, right?" Her loud, stammered laugh rumbled through her lips again. "But they keep getting lost and asking me for things, which drives me crazy. A whole new hoard of them came in while you were at lunch, and one of the girls in that group fainted during a surgery observation, which is not going to be helpful in career in _surgical medicine_… or maybe she fainted because of that one drop-dead _gorgeous _guy in that group, oh my _God_. He looks even better than Tom Welling, and you know how I worship at Tom Welling's _feet_-"

The phone rang. Thanking my lucky stars, I gratefully picked it up and took down an appointment.

When I hung up, Linda was busy with a stack of order forms, so I was free from her droning chatter. I gave directions to several men, women and children who didn't know where their doctors' rooms were. I answered the phone a few more times. Ten med students came over and asked me inane questions ("Where's the bathroom?" "Have you seen a tube of urine?"). A few doctors and nurses signed in and out. A woman in labour came through the front doors; I stood up to help her, but a nurse got there first. I sat down.

"Did you watch Friends last night?" Linda asked me as soon as she had finished the forms.

"No," I said. _Please let the phone ring. _

"It was so funny!" Linda said, starting to laugh at the memory. "Phoebe's brother had this girlfriend who was forty or fifty or something and he's about fourteen or nineteen; no actually I think he's around twenty, maybe twenty three or six. Anyway so Phoebe was really disgusted by it, because they kept kissing in the cafe and having sex on the couch and on her purse and stuff, and she asked Chandler and Monica- sorry, Chandler and _Joey_, to ask him, her brother, Phoebe's brother, to break up with his girlfriend, but then-"

Someone picked up the staff book to sign in, and I looked up at them, hoping they would tell me to order something or call someone; anything that meant I could excuse myself from Linda's gauge-out-your-own-eyes nattering before I lost control and stabbed her.

The eyes I met were amber.

I started violently, my hand flying to my heart and my mouth popping right open.

The surprise on Carlisle Cullen's face was nothing in comparison. He stared at me for a second, and then he rearranged his shocked expression into one of pleasant surprise.

"Bella!"

I could only stare back at him. I was very aware of my jaw hanging limply off the end of my face, and I quickly shut it closed. He seemed to be waiting for a response, but I was still processing the fact that, yet again, my life was vampire-central.

"Alice told me that she saw you. It's been too long."

I blinked.

He was still smiling at me, and I still hadn't responded. I felt a full ten seconds tick past, and still I was gaping like some kind of mentally handicapped blowfish. I felt a sharp nudge in my ribs, and I winced. Linda was awful at subtlety.

"Hi," I choked out. "Um-"

"Look, Bella, I always meant to apologize for our abrupt departure from Forks," he said abruptly, still smiling. His teeth were so white they hurt to look at. "Regrettable but unavoidable. I know it was rude."

"Um," I said, intelligently. "No, it's, it was, I'm… don't, don't worry about..." to my horror, I felt my cheeks flushing.

"I didn't notice you when I first came in, you'll have to excuse me. My mind is racing a bit. Mr James just came out of his transplant and there were some complications."

I bit my lip, raising my eyebrows and struggling to kick my brain into motion. "Oh," I said, stupidly. "That's… that's- that sucks."

_That sucks._ What was I, twelve?

"So, Bella, how are you doing?" He asked this question very suddenly, and his eyes were sharp on mine. I realised that the whole courtroom escapade would have been related to him, and even though he sounded quite casual he probably meant more by this question than it would appear.

"I'm fine," I said, managing to make myself sound alert and in control and subsequently feeling rather smug. There was a pause, as he scrutinized my face.

"How are you?" I asked, to make him stop.

"Very well, thank you," he answered, promptly.

I smiled lamely.

There was another long silence. I felt my entire body heat up, and I looked away, embarrassed. I could feel his eyes still on me, and I pointedly clicked the mouse and pressed several random keys (4:30- Mr elkfadsafjvs). There was another pause, and then I heard him leave. I breathed out.

"Holy fucking shit," Linda said, low and quiet beside me. "Holy fucking shitting shit, I have never seen anyone so fucking gorgeous as that in my whole fucking life. My _eyes _hurt. Holy shit. _Holy_ shit." I glanced at her; she was smoothing her hair between two fingers and gazing at Carlisle's retreating figure. "Who was he? Where did you meet him and how do I get there?"

"Carlisle Cullen," I muttered.

"My God. Even his name is hot." Her eyes ran up and down his body, as he stopped to talk to another doctor just in front of the doors into the main hospital. "He's new, definitely, I would have noticed him before. Did you go to school with him or what? He's... wow..." Linda was actually speechless.

I felt my body slowly coming back under my control, and I was sentient enough to be offended by this assumption; no I did _not _go to school with him. But then, I realised that Carlisle and I _would_ seem the same age now. It would be more believable for me to say that I did go to school with him. Nobody would believe that I went with his children.

I was around the same age as Edward's _father._ How depressing.

"_Cullen_. Is he from Ireland? Oh my _God,_ do you think he can do an accent? How sexy is that? Imagine the games we could play-"

"He's married," I said, revulsion bringing me out of my stupor. Linda's face fell. The phone rang and she grumpily answered it.

I stared blankly ahead of me.

Carlisle Cullen was working at Knives Hospital. That indicated that his stay here was permanent. And if he was here, then I could reasonably assume that the entire family had relocated.

I suddenly felt like screaming. This was so _unfair. _As if my life wasn't already just plain _crap_, now I had to cope with the re-entry of the Cullens? How could fate let this happen? They had the whole world to choose from, and they chose _Knives_, a decrepit city in the middle of nowhere with one of the highest suicide rates in the whole of the US? Most of the people here lived to feed their cats! How was I supposed to live my lovely normal fairytale human life if this was how it was going to work out? Did I have to become a hermit, did I have to physically remove myself from human civilisation and live in a tree?

Because this meant that Edward was back, too.

My heart panged and ached and I bit my lip. _Calm down. _Maybe I was being stupid. I could avoid Carlisle, right? And if Edward found out I was here, he'd probably just leave anyway. He'd probably already gone.

And if all else failed, I could just ask Jacob if we could go and live back in Forks. I could run away and stay away forever. I could get married and go and live my pretence of a life far, far away from Edward.

Jacob would understand. He would want to get as far from the Cullens as he could. Maybe we could go somewhere _really _far away, like Europe. England, maybe, or France. Maybe if I asked nicely we could go and live in Australia. I would simply uproot myself again.

I stared out of the window into the carpark and watched the rain pummel down, sliding along the tarmac in sheets. I did not deserve this. I did not deserve to have everything taken from me and then have it dangled in front of my eyes. That was not fair.

The tension inside me was building and building and I felt like my brain was pressing against my skull. I pressed my fingers to my temples, rubbing them hard in the hope of relieving the frustration.

"Geez, Bella, what's wrong?" Linda's voice broke into my thoughts.

"Nothing," I said, composing myself and smiling at her. "I'm fine."

"You look kinda pissed."

"I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Sure."

"Is it PMS? Because I get that every single-"

"Linda, I'm fine," I said, slowly, trying very hard not to lose my temper.

"Okay," she said, holding up her hands. "If you say so." She stared at me for a second, and then her face split into a smile. "When you're mad, you look just like a prettier version of that one from Gossip Girl, Blair, I think she's called-"

"Linda, _I_ _don't own a television_," I said, through clenched teeth. I pressed the enter key so hard that it fell off. I could feel Linda staring at me.

I sat through the rest of the afternoon speaking only when absolutely necessary and being a lot more violent with the stationary than was strictly required. The afternoon seemed to drag on for ever, and the near constant sheets of rain I could see through the windows did nothing to help my mood. When I glanced at the clock and saw that in only ten minutes I could go home, I felt exhausted relief flooding me. I was so tired; I just wanted to go to bed. Sleep away this day and pretend it had all been a bad dream.

I drummed my fingers on the desk, my gaze wandering absently over the foyer. My eyes crossed the window, and I watched the scene as it was reflected in the glass. There were a couple of people on mobile phones and two twin girls playing on PS3s, all pale and weakly mirrored. A transparent rain-coloured nurse was walking past holding a clipboard. A doctor with water dribbling down his reflection was stood in the doorway that led into the main hospital, talking to a group of students. My eyes drifted, but then something caught my gaze- something- a glint of bronze hair, the flash of pale skin-

My heart stopped.

_No no no no no no no-_

I was out of my seat before I even had time to think. Paper flew everywhere as I flung myself from my chair; Linda shouted out but I ignored her. Ripping my eyes from the windows, I gave Linda a hurried "I've got to go," and exited the foyer as fast as I could without actually running. I knew that for my own sanity I had to get away as fast as possible. I threw myself into the corridor, and almost fell, putting my weight on the wall to steady myself.

And as I stood there, breathing hard, I caught a deep, frantic, velveteen voice coming from the reception area.

"Who was the girl?"

That voice alone, that voice I had not heard for so, so long, was enough to make the world around me spin. I slipped down the wall a little, my ears straining to hear more.

I just caught Linda's intelligent "What?"

"There was a girl, just there, just now, sat _right _there, next to you, who was she?"

"Who, Bella?"

"Bella?" There was a pause. "Bella?" This time the name was addressed to the hospital in general. He was _calling _for me.

No-one would notice if I left early.

I ran.

**...**

"Jacob?" I called, slamming the front door behind me and pulling my arms out of the sticky wetness of my jacket. "Are you home?"

Pause. "Yes," came a muffled grunt from the kitchen.

I rubbed my eyes, and opened the kitchen door. Jacob was leant against the cooker reading a bill, and I wearily walked over and wrapped my arms around his neck. After today I just needed someone to make me feel sane.

But I didn't get the reciprocal hug I had been hoping for. Instead, I was fiercely pushed away. I stumbled backwards.

"Jake?"

"You _stink,_" he spat, and as I looked up at him I saw that he was holding his nose.

"What?" I asked, completely lost. "What the-"

"I can smell it on you!" his voice was nasal, but carried an undertone of anger. His dark brows slanted inwards and he looked livid.

"What? Jacob, what are you on about?"

"Bella, you reek of bloodsucker!" His eyes were getting narrower and narrower, and he shot out his next words with the force of a cannon. "Did you expect me not to notice if you crept off and spent the day with a load of undead monsters? I thought, after everything you said last night-"

"Jacob, I didn't spend my day with them," I interrupted, before Jacob single-handedly started another unnecessary argument. "Carlisle Cullen is working at the hospital. He stopped and talked to me." One look from Jacob's expression told me he didn't believe it. "Honestly, Jacob!"

"What's his job, blood extraction?"

With I groan I threw myself onto a chair and placed my elbows on the table, massaging my temples. "No, Jacob, he's a doctor."

Jacob gave a short, sarcastic laugh. "Ironic."

I rolled my eyes, and then curiously sniffed my hand. "I don't smell."

Jacob wrinkled his nose. "Yes, you do. It's a sickly sweet smell and it's disgusting."

"Right, well, I'm sorry, but I couldn't help it if a vampire shoved himself into my face, Jacob." I felt like hitting something again. Couldn't Jacob see that I was not in the mood for a pointless tirade? I didn't even really see what the big problem was; the Cullens had never personally offended him. He was just being a jerk for the fun of it, and it was getting under my skin.

"What did you say to him?" He asked.

"Nothing."

"If I'd have been there-"

"You would have started _another _fight and we would end up owing them even more money than we already do," I snapped. "I've had enough of Badass Jake, thanks, so if you could just shut up that would be awesome."

Jacob scowled and wet back to his bill.

I had to shower before I went to bed that night. My hair was still wet as I crawled into bed, and it stuck to my face and made my pillow damp.

I lay awake late again, thinking things over. If I wasn't careful, it was going to become a habit and I would die of exhaustion.

I knew that the longer I stayed, the harder lying to Jacob was going to be. I didn't want to fall under Edward Cullen's spell again, but I knew that if he was going to keep turning up at the hospital, day after day after day, then I would. Without a doubt.

Why was he even there? What cruel twist of fortune had planted him there, right on my doorstep? And what was I going to do? I couldn't run away every time I saw him. But then again, how could I _not_ run? How could I let myself slowly fall deeper and deeper into thishole? Because sometime soon I would hit the bottom with a bang, and this time I would not recover.

I took three paracetamols before I went to sleep that night. Edward would be in my dreams until I woke, but if there was one thing I could control, it would be Jacob's ignorance of that fact.I would protect him, even if it was the only thing I could do.

**.**

**((R.e.v.i.e.w. Or I'll kill them all.))**


	7. fear

**here is the deepest secret nobody knows  
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud  
and the sky of the sky of a tree called ****life****; which grows  
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)  
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart**

**i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)**

**.**

**The sky is blue and clear and the sun breathes down warmly on the day below. Bemused people wander around the streets of the city with coats unzipped and sleeves rolled up. They all feel the same surprised elation. It's an infectious happiness which spreads through them all, worming into their minds and tugging their mouths up into smiles. A short man walks jauntily up the street, singing doh a dear a female dear ray a drop of golden sun. A woman smiles as she passes him, walking in the opposite direction, and she hums quietly, me a name I call myself. Far a long long way to run, says the business man who is coming out of the shop she passes. A small boy clutching a doughnut looks up at him as he goes by, so a needle pulling thread, he says in a high voice. His mother smiles down at him and tells him, la a note that follows so. Together they say tea a drink with jam and bread. And then the short man and the woman and the business man and the mother and her son all tell the word that that brings us back to doh doh doh doh.**

**It is one of those rare days where the chill of early spring breaks way into a pale imitation of summer. It's mother nature's teaser trailer; here's what's coming if you hang around a bit longer. The sun is weak but if you stand still long enough the top of your head will grow warm, and if you walk far enough you'll have to take your jumper off. It's not much but it's a sign that maybe the cold dark months behind are finally coming to a close. It's time to put the gloves away and finish up your Christmas chocolate and start shopping for a summer wardrobe. Tonight it will not freeze.**

**Bella is stood in the doorway of the Laura's Wedding Dress Shop, Home Of The Best Dresses In All Washington State, Fifty Percent Off If You Buy Before May. She's clutching the doorhandle and glancing hopefully at the street outside, as the shopkeeper chats to her, suggesting themes and ideas and saying I once knew a girl who dressed her bridesmaids in lime green and it didn't half look awful and oh by the way do you know when you'll be able to pay me? **

**Bella smiles and says, oh, soon, don't worry. The shopkeeper nods, curves straightened hair behind her ears, smiles. Well, bye then, Bella says, and slips out onto the street, closes the door behind her. There is a sudden rush of noise as she leaves the quiet of the shop; a car rushes past, jazz music trilling out into the bustle of the city street. A man in a dark suit and clutching a briefcase pushes past. She runs her hands through her hair and stares across the road.**

**The wind is sharp in the warm air and it whips her hair around her head. She watches a curl fly across her face and looks behind her, back at the perfectly straight hair of the shopkeeper. She thinks of Linda and wonders if she is the only person in the whole world who doesn't have hair like two sheets of paper hanging off her head.**

**A tall blonde woman clutching a paper cup walks out of the Starbucks next door and Bella feels around in her pocket, curses, and turns away. The blonde woman turns and looks down at her as she passes and says good afternoon isn't it a nice day. Bella smiles and nods and blushes. **

**Her motorbike is on the other side of Knives City Park and Bella glances at her watch. She has fifteen minutes before a fat man in a cap charges her thiry dollars for being a minute late so she sets off, turning in the gate at the end of the street and only just missing the steaming heap of dog shit on the pathway. **

**The park is wide and clear and teeming with mothers and children and young, thin men with young, thin dogs. The trees neatly line the paths and lawns spread out wide and cleanly cut, crocuses gathered around stumps and benches. Bella watches a toddler wobble his way along the grass, lose his balance, widen his eyes, and fall flat on his face. She smiles and walks on.**

**Behind her a tall, pale, blonde girl covered head to foot in clothing and clutching a parasol between long pale fingers, steps out from the shadow of a tree. Her shoes clip-clop on the pathway as she gracefully and quickly walks behind the dark-haired girl in front. Her beautiful face is beautifully set and beautifully determined. She nears Bella and she takes a breath, calls out- **

-"Bella!" A high voice came from behind me.

I jumped, and turned around. My face hit the edge of an umbrella and I cried out as the spoke went in my eye. I stumbled backwards and lost my balance, my feet colliding and tipping me over.

A thin, strong arm caught me around the middle, and pulled me up. I blinked. I would have been more surprised at the face that greeted me, had my life not been riddled with vampires over the past few days; instead all I could think was, aw, shit, seriously? I guess my shock reflex was wearing off.

"My God, why is it so hard for you to stay upright?"

Rosalie was looking at me furiously from under an antique cream parasol. Nearly every inch of her skin was covered; she was wearing a raincoat, gloves, jeans and boots. A man pushing a buggy stared at her and her winter clothing as he walked past, and she turned her head and met his gaze with a cool and angry glare. He quickly glanced down at his baby and rubbed his ear.

"I need to talk to you," she said, turning back to face me.

"What?" I asked, rubbing my eye where the parasol spoke had stabbed me. "Rosalie, the sun is out, what are you doing?"

"Oh, is it? Really? I hadn't noticed," she said sarcastically, grabbing my sleeve with a gloved hand and pulling me along.

"What- what are you-"

"We need to talk."

"Hey, no, wait," I pulled away. "You can't just drag me around, Rosalie, what are you doing?"

She stopped and about-turned, glaring at me with such force I almost felt the need to step back. Her face was cast in shadow, making her expression even more menacing, and as she spoke her voice dripped with aggravation. She hissed her words quietly and forcefully.

"I've come all the way out here to speak to you, Bella Swan, which was no mean feat, seeing as the sun is threatening to light me up like a fucking disco ball, and when I get home I'm going to get yelled at by Carlise and Esme _and_ fuckbrain Edward. And I haven't fed in about two weeks so the only thing stopping me from killing you and everyone in this stupid park right now is a self control which is rapidly fading. So unless you want me to really piss Edward off by impaling you upon this parasol, shut up and come with me."

I glared at her, and she rolled her eyes, grabbed my wrist and continued her way along the path. Several people turned and watched our little procession, most eyes lingering on the dark, stunning face and figure of Rosalie Cullen, and only a few eyes resting on the small, plain girl she was dragging behind.

Rosalie only stopped when we reached a tiny, murky, deserted little pond. She heaved a sigh of relief when she saw that the waters were overhung by willow trees, casting everything under their drooping branches in gloom. She led me to the wooden jetty, then let down her parasol and shook out her hair. I stared at her, waiting. Whatever she had to say it must be important, for her to have braved the sunlight.

The wooden boards under my feet creaked slightly and I glanced over at the algae which was lumped over the surface of the brown water. Damp reeds sprung up out of the water in random clumps and the tiny dots of light which slipped through the willow leaves were bright white spots in the muck.

"Bella, I want you to listen to me."

I turned back and looked at her. Nobody has ever intimidated me like Rosalie Hale intimidates me. I wanted to tell her how degrading and rude it was to grab and drag a person against their will, and I wanted to tell her that under no circumstances was she allowed to treat me like a badly behaved pet; but instead I just nodded. I was the mouse and she was the Tyrannosaurus Rex.

Anyway, I wanted to hear what she had to say. I focused my full attention on her next words.

"You are to stay away from my brother," She said.

I had not been expecting that.

"I mean it," she said, watching my face. "I want you to stay out of his way."

I opened my mouth, and then shut it again. What was she talking about?

She was still scrutinizing my face. " Don't get me wrong," she said, as I began to open my mouth again, "I don't give a shit about you. I would have been much happier if we had never gone to Forks and never met you. But you have this great human life ahead of you, and I'm not about to let you screw that up."

I still didn't understand. What? I wasn't to go near Edward because I had an awesome human life which I musn't screw up? Well, a.) it was already pretty screwed, and b.) Edward wouldn't want anything to do with me anyway. Whether I was stood next to him in a broom cupboard or he was holidaying on Mars, there was no danger at all of anything happening. So what was she so worried about? "What are you talking about?" I asked her.

"It's entirely for your own sake. You don't want this life, and quite frankly I don't want you in it. But that's beside the point. Stay clear of my family. Stay clear of Edward." She gave a grim smile. "Everyone else does."

I just stared at her. I couldn't think of anything to say, and she didn't bother waiting for a response. She started unfurling her parasol. "Whatever, Bella. If this wasn't important, I would have waited for a rainy day. Steer clear of Edward. You don't want anything to do with him."

She started to leave, but by this time bewilderment was wearing off and annoyance was breaking the surface. "Wait," I said, turning to face her. "Wait. You can't just tell me all these things I can and cannot do without giving me a better explanation than that."

I saw her shoulders rise as she drew in an irritated breath, then she twisted around to face me. I was hit with the full force of her angular perfection. She looked into my eyes for a second, and then spoke. "Edward is not the same person you knew. And if he makes you half as upset as he makes Esme, and Alice, and Carlisle, then you don't want anything to do with him." She said the words with such force that I could practically feel the anger behind them. I watched her set off again, and then watched her stop. She gave me one last parting comment. "Don't crap this life up, Isabella, because I would _kill_ for what you have."

And then she left.

I watched her retreating figure, my mind still stumbling over what she had told me. I turned back to the water and spotted tiny balls of frogspawn clinging to the sides of the banks. I kicked a stone off the jetty and watched it fall into the water, droplets splashing up against my jeans.

Rosalie didn't have to worry. I never had a chance of getting Edward back and I had come to terms with it.

What puzzled me was that she seemed to think I did.

*****

As I drew up to the house, I spotted Jacob perched on the top of the roof and waving at me like a lunatic. I parked, pulled his helmet off my head, mine being still at the courthouse and neither of us terribly keen to go back there, and squinted up at him. The evening was coming closer and the sun was setting behind him, causing his body to blur around the edges, lighting his outline up white.

"Shouldn't you still be at the Garage?" I yelled.

"They let me off early," he called back. "Come on up, Bells!"

"What, on the roof?"

"Sure! The ladder's right there!" My eyes fell dubiously on the unstable looking wooden ladder perched precariously on the drainpipe. Jacob laughed at my expression. "C'mon, Bells, my Dad used it for forty years and only fell off once."

"How reassuring!"

"Chicken."

I raised one eyebrow and walked up the gravel path. Grabbing the first rung, I looked up, and I saw Jacob's head grinning at me over the edge of the roof. He took the tops of the ladder in both hands and shook them, laughing. "Stop it!" I said, "I'm coming, but if you break my neck I'll kill you."

He laughed and held it steady while I climbed, and then offered me a hand when I reached the top. He pulled me up, and then put his hands around my waist and heaved me over the edge. I scrabbled over the side, pushing up on the guttering, and lay flat against the warm tiles of the roof. Jacob leant down and pressed his nose against mine. I put my hands under my chin and he kissed me, then grabbed me around the middle and hauled me up to the crest of the roof. He sat down on the peak of the roof and I sat next to him.

Jacob draped his arm over my shoulders. It was so warm up here; a summer evening come early. A breeze ruffled through my hair and onto my face, giggling against my skin. Our legs were dangling down the slope of the roof, our feet hanging in the air. I sighed, and leant my head against his shoulder.

The sun was setting, throwing its golden rays out to us, giving us a last chance to warm up before the colour of day faded and the moon switched on. I looked up at Jacob; his face was lit in a warm, dark light, and I watched the sun slowly sinking in his eyes.

I felt so tall, so high. The whole of Cawdor was spread out below me and I looked down on my world. I could see my little back yard, with the weeds I needed to pull and the grass that I needed to mow. I could see the cars parked in the street below, and hear the distant laughter of a family unloading shopping from a large black truck. I saw a little old lady tottering down the street with her carpet bag and her walking stick. I saw the short old man with his pipe reading the graffiti on the side of the corner shop, before slowly making his way inside. I saw four huge teenage boys crammed into a Fiat Punto, and I could hear the heavy base beats of their music slowly fading as they sped along the roads; I watched as their car left Cawdor and took the turning onto the highway. I caught curtains twitching in the houses. I watched a woman unlocking her front door and going inside. My eyes lingered on two little girls playing jump rope and singing. The old man with the pipe came out of the shop clutching a plastic bag. He bent over and coughed, and I could hear it even though he was two streets away.

And I could see further, out past Cawdor, out to the huge hills beyond and the forests that covered them. The bottoms of the peaks were misty and faded, but I could clearly see the rises and falls of the land above. I could see where the trees changed type, where they changed height, where they changed color. I could see where the forests ended and there was nothing but rock and grass, right up, up, up to the very tops. The sun cast orange hues over the tips, a tiny curve of it still visible, shining a powerful, gleaming orange. I imagined what it must be like up there, at the top of the mountain, watching the sun set. Maybe if I climbed all the way up there, up, up, up, above the clouds and into the sky, I would be able to reach out and touch the face of God.

The sun's dying rays shone down over Jacob and me, gracing us with its last goodbyes. I could see the sky burning in a huge symphony of colour; I could see the sun sending its blazing fire across the heavens, illuminating everything as it smouldered. I watched the long thin clouds drifting along, their colours deepening and darkening as the sun dropped ever further behind the hill.

Two birds flitted across the skyline, chasing each other and twittering away. I wanted to grow wings and fly off, fly on and on, forever and ever. Never look back, never stop. Flap my wings and disappear.

"Did the dress fit?" Jacob's voice cut into my euphoria.

"Yes," I sighed. The sun disappeared over the peak of the hill and the rocks at the top glowed white. "This is so pretty."

"I thought you'd like it," Jacob said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. "I figured you needed cheering up. You've seemed so down lately."

"I haven't been down," I lied, my eyes resting on the hilltops. "Stressed."

He laughed. "So have I." We sat in silence for a few more moments. Then- "Bella?"

"Mhmm?" I replied, pulling my legs under my body and leaning heavily on him.

"I'm really sorry that I got into the fight."

I paused, and then turned my head to look at him. "It's okay, Jake."

His dark skin was cast in evening light as he turned again to face the ever darkening world. "I don't think you mean it," he said, his voice soft. "I think that, sometimes, you pretend like things don't bother you, when they really do."

I stared at him. I was underestimating Jacob's powers of attention.

He carried on speaking. "I think sometimes you are really angry, or really sad, or really lonely, and you don't tell me because you don't want to worry me." He turned to face me again, and he was wearing an expression I had never seen before; caring, open, honest, innocent. "But you shouldn't feel like that, Bella. I want to be around when you need me. I want you to tell me everything. Everything that's worrying you, I want to know it so I can help you out with it. That's what I'm here for."

I couldn't think of anything to say. How could I reply to that? I stared at him for a second, and then I leaned forward and kissed his forehead. He closed his eyes, and I rested my head back against his shoulder. The skies were getting darker, the colours fading slowly to grey. I gazed ahead of me. Thinking. Deciding.

"I can't pay for the dress," I said, quietly.

Jacob ran his fingers through my hair. "What do you mean?"

"I worked it out last night. I can't afford it."

There was a short silence, and then he put his arm tight around me and pulled me close. "Don't worry about it," he said, quietly. "Don't worry about anything."

"I…" I tried to say it, but it was so hard to voice my feelings when I had been masking them for so long. Like trying to open a locked door.

"What?" Jacob's voice was deep and reassuring. His arm was so warm against my body.

"I can't help but worry about it, Jake," I whispered. "I feel like I'm in way over my head. I keep worrying about how we'll pay for everything, the house, the wedding…food…" I sighed. "I just can't see a way to sort it all out."

Another pause. I waited, giving him time to think and give me his solution.

"Neither can I," he said, and my heart fell. "But…I don't know why, Bells, but I can't make myself worry. I'm just too happy. All the time." His other hand came up and stroked my cheek, as he looked down at me. "I know it sucks, but when I'm up here and watching all this," he gestured out at the skies, at the darkening streets, "I just kind of know that everything will work itself out. It's shit now but in a few days we'll be married and everything will be perfect."

I'd never felt so awful in all my life.

I hated it. I hated this horrible, horrible box I was trapped in. My life was a rollercoaster that was going way too fast in the wrong direction, and I wanted to get off.

There was a sudden buzz and the street lights snapped on. I shivered. Jacob tightened his grip around me and tried to keep me warm.

"Let's go inside," he said. "C'mon, I'll help you down the ladder."

I looked up at him. He was smiling down at me. I reached up to his face, and cupped it gently. "I really do love you, Jake." I said, quietly.

It wasn't a lie. I did, I truly, truly did.

I just didn't love him enough.

**.**

**((****Spellcheck trivia. Type 'Esme' into a word document. One of the spelling suggestions is semen :]))**

**((oh, and review please.))**


	8. They

**If you were only one inch tall, you'd walk beneath the door,  
And it would take about a month to get down to the ****store****.  
A bit of fluff would be your ****bed****,  
You'd swing upon a spider's thread,  
And wear a thimble on your head  
If you were one inch tall.**

**.**

**((we're in EPOV****, darlings))**

**.**

I had spent more time up here than I had anywhere else since we had come to Knives.

I enjoyed the height. I liked sitting on the very edge of the rocks and staring down the hill slope. The sun setting behind me cast my shadow at my feet, and if I positioned my hands just right, I wouldn't have to watch them glisten. I could sit and pretend that I was completely and entirely human, and even, sometimes, pretend that I wasn't alone. Pretend that there was someone sat beside me; leaning on my shoulder, perhaps. Pretend that I was holding a smaller, softer hand in mine.

The view at my feet wasn't the best I had seen, by any means; but still, it wasn't bad. The slopes rolled out below me, fading in the sunset, and I could look down at the tops of all the trees I had run through to get up here. Evergreens, mainly, but a few sparse showers of blossom changed the color of the mountainside here and there. I could see the little pale paths, worn by hundreds of feet, winding their way up between the trees like string.

Below the hills were the miles of farmland, with tractors chugging their way through the fields and animals lazily grazing, ignorant and careless. I absently wondered what carelessness felt like. What would I give to live like that, with no regrets and no worries? I would give anything.

Well. Not anything.

Far away, I could see the run-down suburbs of Knives, lying just outside the shining city. A sight no human could discern with any keenness from my vantage point, but one that was clearly visible through my eyes. The sun was shining orange down on the rooftops, reflecting off the bodies of the cars as they snaked their way through the backstreets. I watched tiny people wandering around the streets, chatting, running, clutching plastic bags and holding a cigarette between their lips. I could see the faint trills of smoke twisting into nothingness around their heads. I could see two people sat on the top of one of the houses, too far away for me to make out faces. The hair of one of the figures was blowing in the wind; I watched it for a while. It looked like Bella's.

Bella. My eyes lost focus, and I slowly descended into my own world, a fantasy world; a world that I frequented substantially more than the real world. I preferred it.

Every time I closed my eyes, I could see her face on the back of my eyelids. Hey eyes were bright and her hair was long and she was always smiling. I longed to reach out and touch; feel her skin give under my fingers, feel its soft surface, run my finger over her lips and feel her breath on my fingertips; I longed to look from eye to eye, to calculate the moment; longed to lean in, feel her breath on my face, see her eyes slip shut and feel her fingers move in my hair, longed to grab her around the waist and press her against me and-

But this Bella was not real. She lived only in my mind.

My thoughts returned to the couple on the roof. If I had Bella now, I wouldn't sit her on a rooftop. I wouldn't even bring her here, because this hill wasn't tall enough. I would hold her hand as tight as I could and I would take her to the top of the world. I'd wrap her up tight in my arms and let her see everything. She would see the earth, and she would be above it, above everything, up where she belonged. I would make sure that she was higher than anyone else, everyone else. I would show her everything that she could possibly wish to see, and then I would show her more and more; until she had gazed at all the world's wonders, and realized that they were nothing, nothing, when stood next to her.

A bird cawed as it flitted over the horizon, and I was dragged back into existence. I found that my gaze still rested on the far-off figures, and I looked away. My eyes fell on the darkening silhouette of Knives, that small, inconsequential city that was… not my home, nothing was home anymore. Knives was my fleeting abode, before necessity would inevitably dictate my passing from it. I would come and go like a shadow, no-one the wiser as to where I had gone or if I had ever been.

It held no interest for me. Nothing did, not anymore. Every place I'd been to over the past few years had been the same. I'd been feeling increasingly trapped. I could see no way out of this hole of depression, no descending ladder for me to climb, no light at the end of the tunnel. I was facing an eternity of regret and heartbreak and endless unendurable agony and it was closing in around me, pressing against me, driving me insane_. _To have her so near, so close, and yet at the same time so far away; I couldn't take it. Emotions boiled up inside me and I could feel them hitting the sides, trying to get out.

The rock under my hand cracked as I pressed down on it too hard. I couldn't stop an aggravated growl escaping my lips; I couldn't even prevent myself from harming inanimate objects. It was a good thing I stayed out of the way of actual sentient beings, because God only knew what I would be capable of. I removed my hand from the surface, and ran my finger across the crack I had caused. But the sun caught my skin and I had to turn away. I hated how inhuman I was. Hated it.

I couldn't get her out of my head. Every time I had told myself that I should try and let it go, I had emotionally vomited. Letting go meant never thinking about her again, and that was all I lived for. My thoughts. My fantasies and my dreams.

But it was becoming steadily harder to think about her. How many times I'd wished I could move on, get over her; but it wasn't that easy. It was like trying to cross the ocean with no boat or plane and no idea how to swim. Every time I thought her name or saw her face in my mind I could feel myself cracking. I wanted to be normal for Esme, wanted to be halfway bearable for everyone else to make up for four years of being completely _un_bearable. But how could I behave normally, how could I go through everyday life without losing it and shouting and… _fighting with random werewolves_. I groaned. That had been so stupid, such a huge mistake. And so typical of the idiot I was.

And because I was so selfish, so self-serving and arrogant and _cruel, _I couldn't bear the thought of her in someone else's arms. Couldn't bear it. The mere thought gnawed at my heart and made my fists ball and my lip curl and my teeth clench-

I dragged my finger along the rock, and sparks flew.

I had heard that _dog _on that fateful day outside the courtroom. She was _his_. He wasn't going to let me get close. The thought of him trying to stop me was a comical one; but Bella wasn't mine anymore. I had given up all rights to her long ago.

And it _hurt. _No. Hurt wasn't a strong enough word. I had tried to explain it to Alice once, but she hadn't understood. It was like trying to walk with no ground underneath; confusing and dizzying and terrifying. I was lost, with nowhere to go and no reason to go there, and I was scared of an empty life that would go on forever. I was so afraid of the day which would one day dawn over a world without her in it. I felt like I wasn't _myself_, like I couldn't be _me_ because she carried the real me around with her. I was just a shadow of the person I had once been and the space where the real Edward should be was a huge gaping hole. And it would never be filled and one day it would go forever, die with her.

There was a huge, resounding snap, and the rock below me broke clean in two. I let out a frustrated yell, jumping up and slamming my fist into the two remaining fragments. Rock splintered everywhere, and I grabbed a piece and hurled it out into the horizon. It made a _whoosh_ing sound as it flew through the air, and flew and flew, growing smaller and smaller and spinning and turning round and around; and then fell, dropping into the forests below, rolling in the air- and was gone between the distant trees.

I turned back to the view below me; the couple was still on the roof, and one was kissing the other on the head. I looked away. I couldn't escape this endless omnipresent show of love, no matter where I went. I pressed my fingers so hard around the bridge of my nose that it hurt, but I didn't stop. At least the physical pain gave me something to else to feel.

Seeing her again had been heaven and hell, rolled together and thrown into my face. Heaven, because… because everything I had ever been told about heaven, was her. She was beauty and joy and laughter and forgiveness and love, love, love. I had looked into her eyes and seen everything I would ever need to see. Screw the seven wonders. Screw waterfalls and mountains and deserts and forests. I could stare forever into her eyes and never want for anything more.

But hell because I had never known how much pain such a tiny circle of metal could cause. That indescribable feeling of loss had paralyzed me, held me incapable of the things I had wanted to do. I had wanted to run down the room and hold her tight against me, hold her in an unyielding embrace and never let go, kiss her, kiss her until the sun died and the stars went out and space collapsed, and the world around us crumbled and was gone and we simultaneously exploded into infinitesimal grains of absolutely nothing.

I thought about seeing her again at the hospital, remembered watching her hair whip around the corner as she ran away from me. I winced as my heart throbbed. I deserved it but it didn't make it easier. She had every right to hate me. I closed my eyes tightly. Every right.

Something flew past my ear and without thinking my hand snapped up and crushed it. I felt warmth trickling down my wrists, and I wiped the dead animal away without even looking at it.

I looked back at the ground below me. The sun was almost set and darkness was creeping slowly over the land. The tractor was still and parked beside the farmhouse. The animals were no longer in the fields. Knives was flickering with artificial light. The couple on the rooftop had gone; probably settling down to a romantic evening dinner or a movie on the couch.

I picked up a fragment of rock that lay at my feet, and crushed it to powder. Blood still lined my palm, gumming the powder together in a sticky, broken mess. Disgusted, I wiped it away.

Closing my eyes, I controlled all my wrecked emotions and bottled away my pain and anger.

And then I took off into the night.

***

My family was too long accustomed to my regular disappearances to bother to enquire as to where I had been. But as I sat at the table, I could tell, by the behavior of everyone around me, that something was wrong. Alice and Jasper were playing a complicated card game of their own invention, but Alice kept glancing worriedly up at me and Esme kept coming into the room and trying to start awkward conversation. Carlisle was on a night shift so I was, at least, safe from his constant over-fathering. Rosalie and Emmett were out. No guesses why.

I tried to tune in to everyone's thoughts, but they were all determinedly thinking boring, generic things; Alice was looking into the future to see Jasper's next moves, and Jasper was concentrating on the game, even though he obviously knew any attempts at beating Alice were entirely futile. Esme was sat in the kitchen, reciting Byron. I wished she wouldn't because it was altogether too deep and meaningful for my current mindframe.

Eventually, irritation got the better of me, and I banged my book down on the table. Esme rushed into the room, her mind buzzing with the memories of the last few times I had lost my temper. Both Alice and Jasper looked up, Jasper's face darkening as he sensed my mood. I glared at all of them.

"What is going on?"

Esme looked over at Alice, and Jasper looked down at the cards. I waited, and Alice bit her lip.

"Nothing, really-"

"I'm not stupid, Alice," I snapped. "I can tell that something's wrong."

"It's not really for me to say," She said, slowly. Jasper watched me carefully as he sensed my frustration increasing.

"I don't care," I said, angrily, turning my book the right way up. "Why are you all blocking your thoughts?"

"Well, it's insanely rude to try and listen to them anyway."

"Well, what choice do I have if you won't tell me anything?"

"Because I shouldn't be the one to say it!"

"For God's sake, Alice-"

"I'm not talking to you if you're in one of your moods, Edward."

Esme had on that concerned look she always seemed to wear when she was around me. Alice's face had set into an annoyed expression; she didn't respond well to terseness. I rolled my eyes and she glared at me, then she turned back to the game. "I'm not telling you anything. You'll have to wait until Rosalie gets back."

"No, Alice, tell me!"

"Edward," Esme interrupted me, pleading with her eyes. "Leave it be, please."

I held Alice's gaze for a few seconds, probing into her mind with a vigor fueled by malice. But then there was a ripping sound, and Jasper threw two halves of a ripped playing card down onto the floor. "Please can you both calm down," he said, glaring at the carpet. "I can't cope with both of you. Please, Alice."

So of course Alice instantly looked away and apologized.

I turned away from then all, my anger not in the least abated. I opened my book again and stared blankly at the pages, but took nothing in; I didn't even know what it was called. I knew that arguing with Alice was pointless, and arguing with Esme would just make me feel guilty. I was left to wonder aimlessly about what could possibly have happened. _Rosalie_ had evidently done something. My firsts involuntarily curled up. Rosalie. If there was one member of my family I could happily do without, it was her.

Carlisle had left his notepad on the table, and, lacking anything else to do, I began sketching a landscape; but the landscape inevitably turned into Bella's face, and before I knew it I was staring down into a portrait of her, with the sun glinting out of her eyes and a smile on her face. And long hair, just as I remembered. Not the new, short style that belonged to someone else's Bella. I ran my fingers along the paper, following her nose, over her lips, around her chin, caressing the smooth paper rendition of the way her hair used to be.

… **I don't care what he does, he can't control me-**

I sat up, as I heard Rosalie's thoughts, coming closer to the house. I could hear Emmett's voice, quiet but getting louder as they ran closer.

"Don't worry about it, I won't let him touch you."

"I'm not worried. I haven't done anything wrong." Rosalie's stubborn voice made me doubt the truth of her words.

The voices were coming nearer. I stood up, and Esme also rose, looking anxiously from me to the door. Alice and Jasper stopped their card game and I could see Alice with her eyes shut. Obviously trying to sense what was to come. What the _hell_ had Rosalie done?

"Edward, please don't get angry, honey, she meant well," Esme was talking to me, but my mind was too busy running over the possible fiascos Rosalie could have caused to pay any attention. My mind flashed back to the pile of cracked vinyl's that had been her last temper tantrum; if she touched my record collection again I would snap whatever fingers she used and keep them in a box.

They were getting closer and closer, and then I could hear their feet crossing the gravel drive, and then the door was opening, and I was face-to-face with Rosalie's obstinate expression. She stared coolly back at me, and Emmett behind her was watching my face very carefully.

**Lay a finger on her, Edward... **I could sense the real warning behind his tone.

I stared at Rosalie, searching her thoughts, but her mind remained blank. "What have you done?" I asked her, quietly, watching her eyes.

She pursed her lips, and walked further into the room. Emmett shut the door and all was silent. I could feel Esme's gaze on my shoulder. Alice was standing now, and was watching me through narrowed eyes.

**Don't do anything stupid, Edward, **was her warning.

"Rosalie," I almost growled, blocking out the cautioning thoughts that were now firing at me from all directions.

She glared at me full in the face. She calculated her words before she spoke them, but when she did she said them with confidence. "It had to be done, Edward. I knew no-one else would brave your temper."

"What did you do?"

She didn't answer, but images swam into her head, and with unfolding horror I watched as a perfect rendition of Bella entered her memories. I saw Rosalie dragging her along a pathway, watched as Rosalie came to a halt on a jetty and turned to her, watched Bella's bewildered expression, understood all that had been said-

My mind screamed with sudden, blazing fury. My eyes burned in my face and my entire body quaked with the need to _rip Rosalie apart._ I couldn't help myself. I had never been so angry, never, never, not since… since James. The rage burned through my body, taking hold of every ounce of reason I possessed and devouring it. My mind exploded with pure, unbridled savagery. I couldn't control the beast inside of me, as it reared up and roared, beating its chest with the same fervor that I would use when I _killed _her.

I ran at Rosalie, my hands slamming against her chest and throwing her, airborne, across the room. I caught up with her body just as it was about to hit the wall, and I grabbed her and smashed her forward with all my power. The wall cracked against her, and I pinned her against it, my hand clamped tight around her neck. It was so small under my palm, and it would be so easy to just _snap_. Her large eyes widened in shock, and then in anger. She struggled against my hold, legs kicking and hands scraping at my fist, trying to loosen my grip. But I didn't release her, merely squeezed tighter. I could barely speak for rage, my breath gushing from my lungs and my teeth bared; but I managed to spit a few words into her perfect, pampered little face-

"I knew you were _bitch_, Rosalie, but I never thought -"

"Get the _fuck_ off her!" And then Emmett's arm was around my middle and he was pulling me away. I drew back my arm, and managed to get a punch in before he could separate us; there was a huge crack as our skin met. Rosalie's cry was nothing to Emmett's; suddenly I was flying through the air, hitting the ceiling and landing on the ground with a resounding thud. Dust rained on my head. Esme was shouting and I could hear Alice's high pitched voice, but all I could think of was getting to Rosalie and-and-

I got to my feet and ran towards her, but Emmett grabbed my arms and swung me back, one muscled forearm digging in to my stomach. His voiced dripped with rage as he spoke- "I swear to God you will not see another _day_ if you so much as _look _at her again, Edward-"

"WHY?" I bellowed at Rosalie, but I doubt she heard as she was already yelling at me.

"You _asshole, _Edward, how _dare _you-"

"Are you always this much of a _cow_, or where you just making a special effort today? Do you not think that things are already screwedup enough without your help? You couldn't resist pulling the noose just that _bit _tighter, could you?" I struggled against Emmett, but he didn't release me. Esme was shouting at us, and was probably crying again, but I didn't care about that, not now-

"What did you think was going to happen, Edward, she was going to run away from her _marriage _to be with you? Don't be so fucking stupid_, _I can't think of anyone who would voluntarily touch you with a bargepole-"

"I don't know where this Queen-of-everything delusion has come from, but-"

"Oh, Edward, _wake up,_ you didn't need my help to screw things up! She already hated you, you attacked her _fiancé_!" Rosalie's screamed words struck a chord; I hated to admit it, hated hated hated to, but she was right.

"I didn't know it was him!" I yelled, struggling harder. Emmett's arm was so tight around me that it almost hurt. "I didn't know!"

"And if you had known you would have just hit him harder!" Rosalie spat, her eyes bright with anger. Alice was shouting something and I felt a wave of sudden calm crashing over me; but Rosalie was having none of it- "Jasper, if you try _anything _I swear to God I will make a few additions to those scars-"

"All I asked was for everyone to just _leave her alone_-" I pulled harder against Emmett, trying to release myself as he twisted my arms around, "Emmett, let me _go_!"

"I'm not going to let you kill my wife, you dick-"

"Please, Edward, just _calm down_…" Esme was definitely sobbing. Again.

Rosalie's voice rang loud and clear around the room- "I just saved that _stupid _human from possibly making a choice that would ruin her entire life! You should be _happy_, you always used to go on and on _and on _about how all you wanted was to protect her-"

"That is all I want!" I yelled.

"Great, well, I've protected her from you! You've already successfully screwed up this family, so all I did was stop you from screwing up hers as well!"

"I would never hurt her, never-"

"Don't fucking _lie,_ Edward, you hurt everyone! You make Esme cry every other _fucking _day! Carlisle worries about you so much that he's had to keep you under his nose all the time, why do you think he's got you in the hospital near enough twenty-four seven? You want nothing more than to waltz into Bella's lovely little home and take her away, and the only thing that's stopping you is the knowledge that she probably doesn't want you anymore!"

"SHUT UP!" I yelled, and I wasn't just shouting at Rosalie, I was shouting at everyone else, because in their minds they were all agreeing with her, agreeing with every word that came out of her pouting, poisoned little mouth- "Just _shut up_!"

"Really excellent argument there, Edward, but then again you always did have the IQ of a fence post-"

"_Shut up_!"

The smile she shot at me had such a malevolent fervor that it only rightly belonged on the lips of Satan; and I wasn't entirely sure which of those two entities I hated more at that moment. "You act the emotional martyr, but underneath it all you only care about yourself-"

"Shut up!" I bellowed. Emmett dug his nails into my back in an effort to keep me within his arms. "You don't get it, Rosalie, you don't get it and you've just made everything worse -"

"I didn't do anything, I just warned her that you're a dick, which you've just proved when you almost snapped my neck! You should be happy, Edward, instead of overreacting like this-"

"How can I be happy, you told the woman I love that-"

"Love?" She actually laughed. "You don't love her! If you loved her then you'd be happy with what's best for her, and stop wishing endlessly that you could have what's best for _you_! This 'love' you think you feel for Bella is nothing more than your need to know that there's someone out there who doesn't thoroughly loathe you! You've already alienated every single member of this family; you've got no-one left here, so you're just moving on to your next target! Face it, Edward, nobody wants you around anymore. And who can blame them?"

And with that, she had won. I didn't have a response. I merely stared, my breath heaving through my throat. There were no other sounds. Rosalie's smile widened.

Esme shook her head. "No, no, Rosalie, you don't mean that, Edward honey, don't listen, it's not true-"

**It is. **

My mind froze. Those two little words came from four separate minds; Alice, Jasper, Emmett and Rosalie all simultaneously agreeing, for, perhaps, the first time.

Rosalie stared me straight in the eye. "There isn't a single person in this room who you haven't shouted at, or thrown something at, or offended in some way. You just _attacked _me." I could see the twisted delight in her eyes as she spoke. "And if your own family doesn't want you, then how could you even _dream _that Bella would?"

My mind was screaming. I needed to get out of here, before I broke down in front of everyone. I hooked my arms under Emmett's and pushed, and somehow, miraculously, I was freed.

My feet took me from the house before my ears could hear anything else, before another word or thought could worm its way through my barricades and knock me down completely.

I concentrated entirely on running, running far, far away.

The only person who called after me was Esme.

**.**

**((reviewreviewreviewreview if you please))**


	9. mirror

**Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget  
What thou among the leaves hast never known,  
The weariness, the fever, and the fret  
Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;  
Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,  
Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;  
Where but to think is to be full of sorrow  
And leaden-eyed despairs,  
Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,  
Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.**

**.**

I had tried everything. I had shut my eyes. I had hidden in cupboards and behind doors and behind tall people. I had headed off to the A&E when I needed to be in the canteen. I had burst into a doctor's office mid-examination in an attempt to keep myself from sight. But it didn't matter what I did or where I went; he would always be there. And he would always be watching.

The hair on the back of my neck tingled in a way that was growing increasingly familiar, and I turned away from the computer screen, looking for that giveaway flash of bronze. However, my cursory glance proved that the reception foyer was clear of vampires and med students; I was safe from ambush by either. I closed my eyes and pressed my fingers to my temples. Was I just being paranoid? Probably. I would just have to add mental instability to my ever growing list of problems.

I turned back to my spreadsheet and changed a few appointment times. Linda was on the phone taking down a number. I tapped my fingers on the faux-wood of the desk, waiting as the archaic computer froze, unfroze momentarily, waited for me to click, then froze again. If it had belonged to me I would have put my foot through the stupid machine already. I was reminded strongly of the piece of junk that still stood on my desk in Forks.

Which reminded me that I needed to ring Charlie.

Yesterday had been pure unadulterated hell. It had been making up for my 'sick' day, sat next to an unknown red head and surrounded by Doctors on strange unfamiliar shifts, nurses I had never seen before. Plus, the hospital was always busier on weekends, so I had had more than my usual hail of phone calls and order forms and spreadsheets and complaints and patients (but, thank God, _no medical students_). I had spent the whole day worrying about Jacob and his suit fitting; I couldn't shake the suspicion that he was going to march through the front door sporting a sleeveless jacket and shorts, saying something like "I thought about getting a regular suit, but I decided this would be much more convenient."

And then we had stayed up until two discussing RSVPs and seating plans and where we would go on honeymoon, if we weren't already so far down the debt tunnel there was no discernable ray of light for about thirty years.

"Bella!" My head jerked up as something grabbed my shoulder and shook it. "Wake up! The phone!"

Linda's voice pulled me back from the brink of sleep. I blinked blurry eyes and yawned slightly, wincing at the light and noise of the reception. An incessant ringing leaked into my ears. I groaned, and blindly reached out for the receiver, missing and grabbing a stapler instead before my fingers finally fell around it. I took down an appointment, hung up, and yawned again.

The unrelenting sleepless nights were really taking their toll on me. I had made myself four coffees this morning but they had obviously had no effect; all I wanted to do was curl up in bed and go to sleep. I would have napped my way through yesterday if I hadn't had to make up for lost hours. I just couldn't shake the constant fatigue. And I couldn't resolve it either. Infected minds to their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets, and although that particular sensory deprivation might be true of my pillow it wasn't true of Jacob.

I stared out of the window, seeing Linda staring at me in my peripheral vision. I waited for her to speak, then sighed and turned to look at her. "What?"

She smiled widely, her teeth almost glowing. She must bleach them in radioactive waste. "You've got eye bags big enough to carry my shopping in, B!" She said, "You sleeping okay?"

"Yes," I replied, my initial retort to anything Linda ever asked me. Lying was becoming my first response. It was also my response to anyone who called me 'B'; not even Renee had shortened my name to just the one letter.

Linda was blissfully aware of my inattention. "I used to have this friend who didn't sleep, like, ever. She would just eat a load of candyfloss and drink skinny vanilla lattes."

"Really," I said, not even realising I had replied. My mind had two levels; the level that worried and thought and did work and was actually active; and then the level that handled Linda.

"Yeah! I can't remember what she was called but we went to school with each other… what was it? I can't believe I've forgotten! Sarah? Sam? No… "

It couldn't be long until my lunch break, surely? I just wanted to go to my lesson with Marley. It was the one thing I had woken up for. Half an hour to go. Thirty minutes. I could handle thirty minutes.

"Sophie! Sophie Smith! I remember she was really weird, she used to wear those boots with the soles that were like forty inches thick and listened to Slipknot and wouldn't eat anything except but boiled potatoes-"

"Morning, Bella," a deep voice grunted at me, and I glanced up into a lined face of a doctor I didn't know the name of. My primary elation at escaping Linda's nails-down-a-chalkboard conversation withered and died as he shot me a condescending smile dropped an armful of papers in front of me. I stared at them, and then at him. "I was wondering if you could take these up to Doctor Cullen for me. Tell him they're the insurance forms he's been asking me for."

"Er," I said, trying very hard not to tell him to _do it himself_. "Well, I'm a bit busy-" this was a lie, huge but I would rather saw off my own fingers with a ruler than unnecessarily enter Carlisle's office "- couldn't you ask an orderly?"

He looked disgruntled. "Everyone's busy, what with all these medical students. I'm sure it wouldn't take you very long. I'd do it myself but I've got to operate on someone's brain in fifteen minutes; although," he looked at me with the air of a teacher dealing with a disobedient student, "I'm sure that arranging schedules is equally important as life-or-death surgery- doubtless absolutely pivotal. However, no-one is going to die if you leave that phone for two minutes."

He shot me a disapproving look, and then cleared off. I carefully bandaged up what was left of my tiny, shrivelled ego and stood up. I set myself a reminder; another person to dodge in corridors. I glared at his back as he retreated, resisting the very strong urge to throw my hole puncher at him. I scooped up the papers and swore at him in my head. Linda was, as ever, oblivious to insults and snobbery. Her mind was chugging along its usual one-track line.

"_Doctor _Cullen… rather you than me, Bella, I'd probably just rip his pants off and lose my job."

Inwardly retching, I smiled at her. I shifted the weight of the papers and headed towards the swing doors into the corridor. My arms groaned with the weight and I tightened my fingers around the edge. I opened the door with my hip, and waded into a surprisingly teeming corridor. Circling med students milled around, eating sandwiches, laughing with their mouth full of sandwich, spraying sandwich into my hair. My stomach grumbled, but I ignored it. I would eat when I got home; I had left my lunch on the kitchen table. Which was a typically _crap _thing to do.

The elevator was at the end of the corridor, and I pressed the button with my elbow. The little screen told me the elevator was at "B"- basement level. I tapped my foot as I listened to the whirring of the machine as the box inched its way up the shaft. The elevator was renowned for its sluggishness; by all rights it belonged in a museum.

There was a click, and then a ding, and then a groan, as the doors screamed their way open. I shifted the paper in my arms and yawned again, looking into the box-

And into those eyes that had been staring at me all day.

And then I knew for sure that I was monumentally and totally _screwed. _

My body fell away and all there was left of me were my eyes, held still by his own. My heart stopped beating for a second and the stillness inside me sent shivers up my arms, down my back.

A little voice in my head exclaimed over the way Edward Cullen could erase every thought in my head and just leave me gawping. Something about his body, the way he stood; straight-line shoulders, one hand frozen halfway through running it through his hair. The way his hair fell in disarray around his face, the way his mouth was slightly open and I could see the tips of his teeth.

There was another scream of metal as the doors started to close; the elevator box started to disappear. Edward shot forward, quick as blinking, his hand holding the doors back. My eyes jerked to the indents his fingers had left in the metal, staring for a second at how long and white those fingers were; and then they went back to his eyes. He was so close; I could have reached out my hand and touched him. I could see him so clearly; his lips, how dark and red they were, how soft they looked. I could see every hair in his eyebrows, every separate eyelash. The darkened shadows that hung under his cheekbones. And his eyes- they seemed just _endless_, wells of molten gold, and I just wanted to take a deep breath and jump, and fall and fall until I could find a little path of his soul on which to sleep.

He was still holding the elevator door open. It was so hard to think and stare at him at the same time. He didn't move. His eyes were on me and his expression was unreadable. His gaze made my chest swell, made me feel like I was full of air.

My mind told me not to get into the elevator. It was the rational part of me, telling me the rational course of action. And every other single fibre of my being told me that I could not, would not look away.

His arm still held back the door. I blinked, trying to clear my mind. I felt the weight of the paper in my arms, and I bit my lip, and dragged my eyes away, staring at the back of the elevator box. I had to at least try to stay in control, and there was no way that was possible when I was looking at him. I kept my eyes averted as I slipped over the doorway, and he quickly drew back as I passed.

The elevator doors dragged their weary way across the entrance, and then we were alone, just the two of us, isolated. The weight of the situation slowly descended upon my shoulders. There was a sharp silence. The elevator hadn't even started moving; doubtless it wouldn't for another ten seconds. And I just stood and stared forward, and he stood tall and real next to me, still and unmoving but his eyes definitely still on me. My arms were full of the wrong thing; I could feel electricity whizzing away against my skin.

The corner of my eye slyly took in his perfectly creased shirt, just hinting at what lay beneath. Long piano-fingers. The broad shoulders. Perfect, tousled hair.

The elevator whirred and I couldn't help it; I glanced over at him. He was staring intently at me, face twisted. The only thing that set him apart from stone was his eyes. They were focused on me and as they moved my eyes would follow, follow each flick and turn as he gazed over me. It was as if he was familiarizing himself with a map he would not be seeing again. If my gaze could have left his eyes I would have done the same to him.

It hurt, of course it did, to look him in the face. Drinking in every perfection, every angle, every stretch of pure white skin, every faultless shape and line; knowing the whole time that in my face he would be seeing new lines, new creases, the omnipresent bags under my eyes. He would be seeing how tired I looked, how _old, _how my eyes were bloodshot and my eyebrows were permanently downturned. I probably looked alien to him. An old alien.

I turned away.

It was almost laughable; the only thing that made me strong enough to do the right thing was my own vanity. Not rationality, not sensibility, not even any remaining desire not to commit complete adultery.

I winced at the thought. Adultery. Such a harsh word. Infidelity, maybe, would be softer. Ultimately, though, the meaning was the same. And both were very equally applicable to me. As the elevator jarred to life, Jacob's face popped into my head. My heart pounded. _Jacob Jacob Jacob Jacob_, I thought over and over. _Remember Jacob, remember where you belong._

I heard him take a breath, and my own breathing fell flat and dead. There was a moment of silence, short and poignant, like the pause between each second; then he breathed out a torturously long breath and said nothing.

On the side of my body closest to Edward, there was a constant patter of electricity, or some other force that caused me pain, a pain which I knew would only be soothed by contact. The tension mounted and mounted. I could almost feel it between my fingers. It probably had something to do with the way his eyes were boring into me, rays of heat that were boiling up all my emotions and making them increasingly difficult to hold back. I closed my eyes firmly, blinking hard. I was not going to lose control. I was not.

Whirr whirr whirr went the elevator.

There was a slight groan as the wires complained of age.

I could feel my eyes heating, and I shut them tight. I was seriously overworking my tear ducts lately. Another sign that not only was I an unfaithful liar, but I was also not the strong, unbreakable person I had imagined myself to be. I was able to hold on to reason for just about as long as a child could take Atlas' job.

**_For God's sake, Bella! _**I internally yelled at myself. _Why_ couldn't I get a grip? I hated that he could do this to me, that merely by _standing _next to me he could rip down every wall I ever built. I was obviously incredibly crap at construction.

The gentle buzz all around was the only sound except from my own breathing.

I could see the floor, the walls, the button pad, but I could not see _him. _Was he still watching me? What was he thinking?

Involuntarily my head jerked to the side. He wasn't looking at me. Of course not; what was there to see? His fists were clenched and he was stood straight was an iron rod. His lips were set and his eyebrows were straight. I couldn't read a single thing in his face or body language that suggested the same feelings I felt. I could only see anger. The empathy I had imagined at the elevator entrance had been fiction, invented by my own desperate mind.

The elevator whirred and I could feel the slow rise.

I felt liquid gathering under my eyelids, and I snapped a hand up to wipe it away. The paper slipped and I twisted my arm around, catching it all before it fell. My fingers were shaking, and I clenched them tightly against the paper so that maybe he wouldn't see. I was blushing furiously. This was horrible- horrible horrible horrible. I froze as he shifted- my heart stood still as he seemed to debate further movements- and then it sank to my stomach when he moved no further.

I wanted to run my fingers through his hair and feel his in mine. Wanted to watch the sun set fire to his skin, and run my finger along its smooth surface. I remembered how it had felt; like glass. I wanted to marvel at how something can spark like flames and yet feel so cold. I wanted to trace every single part of him with my fingers and keep it all forever in my grasp. I wanted to curl up in his arms and cry for all I had had and all I had lost, and I wanted to feel the perfect smoothness of him all around me, and know that he loved me and that I could have all I wanted.

The drone of the elevator hung in the air.

I hadn't been concentrating on holding everything back, and, unbidden, a sob escaped my lips. It was a vile, ugly, gasping thing, so loud in the silence, and in the shock my eyes snapped open and a tear fell to the ground. All he would be able to see was my hair. It was clean, at least.

Maybe fifteen seconds had passed. I didn't even know where the elevator was going. The top floor, by the feel of it. Beneath my feet, the surface vibrated.

I heard him shift, and I stood still, waiting… waiting for something to happen; for him to speak and my resolve to crumble; or for the elevator to reach its destination so I could make my escape.

"Bella-"

I barely had time to hear the fake concern in his breathy word, because at that moment the doors scraped open and then I was _out_, and moving along the corridor as fast as I could without actually running. Hopefully if I kept moving forward I wouldn't fall. I was clutching the paper tightly so I wouldn't drop it. I sniffed again as I walked, knowing that the tears on my face, the red circles that would be pinpointing exactly where to stare, would just be making me even less attractive than before. I headed quickly along the floor, passing staring orderlies and a Doctor on his mobile.

I knew where Carlisle's office was, and when I reached it I collapsed against the wall, catching my breath and closing my eyes tightly, trying to put everything back under control, lock it all away, back where it belonged. I breathed in and out. I blew my hair out of my eyes.

I lifted up a hand to press a finger and thumb to my temples, and noticed a searing pain in my palm; looking down, I saw a long, white edged paper cut running across my skin. I groaned, clenching and unclenching my fist to gauge how much irritation this was going to cause. It stung in protest to the movement.

The tears had subsided, although I was sure my eyes were still red-rimmed. I just needed to get this done so I could make it to Marley's lesson. Turning to face the door, I didn't even pause to take a breath, simply knocked and entered.

Carlisle was sat at his desk in his white-walled office, in front of a computer. He glanced up, and his eyes lingered only for a fraction of a second on my blotched appearance. Then he tactfully turned back to his screen, clicking the mouse and frowning.

"Are those the papers I asked Keith to collect for me?"

"Yes." And here despite all my incomparably worse problems, I hit a block on how I should address him. Sir? Too formal for a person who had once been like an uncle. '_Carlisle'_ was too _in_formal. Doctor Cullen would have been a compromise; but...

"Yes," I repeated, feeling, and sounding, like an idiot.

I walked over to his desk and placed them down. My footfalls were silent on the deep carpet. He glanced up and smiled.

My stomach rumbled. A merciless God was obviously sat above me plotting more ways to rip my day into shreds. The noise was incredibly loud in the otherwise almost-silent office, echoing above the drone of the heater. A blush rose up my face like the tide.

Of all the days to forget my lunch, I chose _today_?

Carlisle glanced up, smiling his fatherly smile.

"Hungry?"

I smiled weakly. I probably looked a right sight; red eyed, red faced, mouth twisted into a forced grin. Like some kind of sunburnt, mentally unstable freak.

"Ah well, it's nearly lunchtime." He said optimistically, reaching out for the papers, standing them up and tapping them against the desk, so they were uniform and straight. "Are you feasting on the delights of the canteen?"

I smiled weakly. "No," I said, and twisted my fingers as he smiled up at me, waiting for me to continue. "I left my lunch on the kitchen table," I said, my lips turning up as I finished, glancing down at the carpet as my eyes burned again, twitched with tiredness, looked back up at him.

"Well, you could have mine; it is only a prop, after all."

I blushed even deeper. "I'm fine. Sorry. Didn't-" I wasn't thinking about my words and I just sounded like a moron. "I'm okay. But thanks, Si…Car- Doctor Cullen."

"It's Carlisle, Bella." His eyes seemed to be searching mine, and I had the disturbing feeling that he was seeing more of me than I wanted him to. He had that intuitive, caring look which connoted close friends and family; and it made me uneasy.

I looked away, turning towards the door. "Is there anything else I can do for you?" I asked, hoping beyond hope that he would just say _no._

"No." I think he might have noticed my extremely obvious sigh of relief. I walked quickly across the room, silence making the air heavy. "Oh, and Bella?" Carlisle's voice cut through it like scissors.

"Yes?" I replied, putting on a fake, calm sounding voice.

"Make sure that cut on your hand is clean."

I shot him a quick smile that was as fake as my voice, and stepped out into the corridor.

As soon as I was under the strip lights I could feel _his _eyes on me, and then I knew for certain that I could not stay inside these white walls any longer.

I didn't take the elevator, instead flinging myself down the stairs, running down down down, my fingers bumping along the banisters. My shoes clicked against the floor- what a day to wear heels- as I went. I reached the ground floor in the time it had taken the elevator to get halfway up the building.

I knew that Edward was no longer staring at me, but still, a weird claustrophobia had taken over and I had to get outside. I walked quickly past the front desk, unseen by Linda, pushed past a young woman with a toddler, and then I was outside. Breeze tossed my hair.

The air was so fresh in comparison to the domesticated smell of the hospital. The fine rain instantly cast a damp layer over my skin and I shivered, looking down at my shirt and skirt and wishing I had washed my pants. The sky above was completely grey. I breathed out.

I walked around the edge of the hospital, trying to calm myself down.

I was almost disgusted by how weak I was. The sharp light of day illuminated the ridiculousness of a mental breakdown after only, what, thirty seconds in an elevator with an ex of four years. What was I, fifteen? I was supposed to be an _adult, _and yet I couldn't stop myself sobbing like a baby. Tears didn't suit an adult face. They just looked stupid. What was that line from Love Actually? 'No-one's going to shag you if you cry all the time'. I laughed to myself, rubbing my eyes and walking on.

I came to the back of the hospital, and found a discreet little wooden bench next to two huge rubbish dumpsters and an ambulance with four slashed tires. I sat down and drew my knees up to my face. My knees fit neatly into my eye sockets. The yard was deserted except for myself, and I could hear nothing but the distant rush of traffic and the high tones of far off voices.

My mind turned back to inevitable thought trails. It was better that I thought it all over here, because I couldn't do it at home. Jacob would expect happy marriage-glow Bella.

Edward. So many emotions hung off that name; love, of course love. But then anger, betrayal. There was a difference between the Edward in my mind, and the Edward who had been stood next to me. The Edward in my head was the fictional, invented man who adored me and overprotected me and drove me crazy and who I _loved_, fiercely, passionately loved. And then, there was the real Edward. The Edward who I didn't deserve and who could never want me. The Edward who I was suddenly furious at, the Edward who had deserted me and left me. The tornado that came, worked its destruction, and then left me to pick up the remaining pieces. And the Edward that I didn't just _love. _The Edward who sat in my thoughts and dictated my dreams.

I could remember what his arms felt like, wrapped tight around me.

I knew what I wanted. I wanted him again. I wanted my old life back. I wanted to escape the constant feeling that there was _nothing _I could do that was worth anything; and that out of the limited number of things I could do, there would always be someone who could do it better, making my entire existence completely pointless. Before, I had existed to love Edward. But now, what was the point? Why was I here? If I just disappeared, would anyone really even notice?

And then there was that other question; _why me_? Why did I have to play the Ugly Sister while just about everyone else got the part of Cinderella? Linda was married. Jessica Stanley was married; I had the torn up wedding invitation to prove it. Charlie was with Sue. Even freaking _Adolf Hitler _had a wife. Why was I the loveless one?

No. Wait. Jacob. I actually forgot I was getting married for a second. The knowledge re-added itself to my ever growing baggage.

The rain was getting heaver, and my hair was growing damp. It would shortly frizz and curl uncontrollably. I groaned, and straightened my legs out again. Marley's lesson next. That would be okay. I could beat out some frustration on a seven-dollar keyboard.

**...**

Marley hadn't been able to come to the lesson; he was swamped with med student stuff, along with all his actual work. I understood, but it was annoying. I spent my lunchtime doing scales and wishing I had remembered to bring food. The rumbling of my stomach had receded to a dull ache. What kind of idiot forgets her own lunch? I didn't have enough brainpower to get an ant's motorcycle around the inside of a Cheerio.

When I returned to the desk, Linda was staring at me curiously. I returned her gaze as I sat down. "What is it?" I asked, perhaps for the first time actually willingly beginning a conversation with her.

"An orderly just came with something for you," she said. I raised my eyebrows. "On your keyboard," she said.

I turned and looked.

It was a sandwich box.

And attached to it was a small post-it-note, upon which was written, in an instantly recognizable and instantly heart-breaking cursive font; _Bella Swan._

**_._**

**((it's snowing it's snowing it's snowing it's snowing))**

**((review please :] ))**


	10. true

**And now those vivid hours are gone**

**Like mine own life to me ****thou art**

**Where past and present, wound in one**

**Do make a garland for the heart**

**.**

**Rain falls to the earth, small as finely crushed glass just thrown; more like dust than rain. The drops dance around in the air, a flurry of them, pushed around by the wind, parted by cars. The headlights glow dim through the gloom, lighting up long and steadily diminishing cylinders. The tiny little drops of water twist about in the air, falling slowly but surely towards the ground. **

**Her motorbike rips along the road and through the water. Her beaver is down, we could say, her beaver is down and she is ready for war. Her jacket is unzipped and rain falls onto her collarbones.**

**The suburbs of Cawdor rise around her, and she closes her eyes for a second, trying to block it out. She curves up her driveway and around the back of her house, and twists the key in her engine. The hands which lift her helmet up are shaking. **

**She sits there in the rain, feeling the dusty drops nestling in her hair. She stares forward, looking directly at the gate between them and Mrs Two-Hundred-and-Fourty-Seven, but she doesn't really see it. Rain dribbles down her neck and across her chest. Her mind is full of heavy thoughts; they make her head weighty and her shoulders slump under it. She heaves a sigh; and so deep it is it seems to shatter all her bulk and end her being. **

**Her leg swings over the bike and she locks everything to the side of the house. She wipes her feet on the back doorstep and turns the key in the lock, opens the door. Running her hand through her hair, she steps inside, and the rain falls from the end of her fingers and patters down on the doorstep. **

**She hangs her jacket up on the back of the door, switching on the kitchen light. She moves to turn on the kettle, but something catches her eye; she turns and looks at the pink neon paper sticking out of the leather pocket. She pauses, her breath catching, her lips slightly parted. She reaches ****over with a cold hand and pulls it out, holds it between thumb and forefinger and looks at her name written there. **

**She moves to put it back in the pocket; but stops, looks down at it, changes her mind. She walks over to the cupboard by the hobs, and pulls out a box of matches. She doesn't pause now; there is the grate of the strike, the hiss of the flame. She holds the paper by its corner and moves the match underneath it. It blackens and curls and falls in dead clumps to the ground.**

**She shakes t****he match and disperses the ash with her feet.**

**.**

"Bella! You home?"

"Yes," I called from the kitchen. I heard him taking his shoes off, hanging up his jacket, heard his footsteps up the hall. I stared at the door as he came through it; He took one look at me and frowned.

"You okay?"

I smiled, looked away, nodded. I curled my hands around my mug, my grey jumper reaching up to my knuckles, and didn't look up. Jacob sighed and came over, sat beside me, put his arms around me. I rested my head on his chest and closed my eyes, pulled my knees up to my chest.

"What is it?" he asked, but I merely shook my head again. "Tired?" he asked. I smiled and curled up tighter against him. "Hey? What is it?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Are you worried about money again?"

I kept my face very still so he wouldn't be able to see what was going through my head. Mingled relief and disappointment trickled down my throat as I swallowed; relief that he hadn't guessed any further, and disappointment for that same reason.

"I just got my paycheck, so you can buy your dress, if that's what it is."

"Thanks," I mumbled. I brought my tea up to my mouth and blew across it, watching the steam billow out across the table. I took a sip; I could feel it slide down my throat. It was still too hot, so I set it back onto the table. Jacob squeezed me, then bent his neck down so his face was next to mine. I looked into his eyes, and he raised his eyebrows, grinned.

"Cheer up," he said, and kissed me softly. He pulled away after a moment, and shifted so he could press me against him easier. I smiled and looked away, hoping he would stop, but he took my head and kissed me again.

"Jake," I said, quietly, as he worked his way up the side of my head. "Jake-"

"Ssh," he said, softly.

"I really-" he kissed me again so I couldn't continue. His hands delved into my hair and I closed my eyes, without the energy to move or resist, without the energy to push him off. I was sinking under heavier burdens, my body already too tired to cope with anything else. I felt his hands wandering over me and I let them.

"I think," he whispered in my ear, "I've thought of something that will perk you up a bit."

My eyes flew open. "Jake," I began, my heart freezing solid and plummeting through me.

"I love you," he said, softly. I closed my eyes.

"Jake-"

He kissed down my neck, slid the zip down on the jumper and moved it off my shoulder, kissed the skin revealed there.

I tried to wish myself somewhere else, to shuffle off my mortal coil and slip my soul out of the window. But his hands and lips were real, too real.

As his breathing grew faster so did my heart, and dread flooded my body. I wanted to pull away, tell him no, no, a thousand times no. I wanted to but I didn't. Fear for my sake and fear for his kept me where I was and held me there. A thumb over a wriggling fly.

I could still smell the lingering scent of a blown out match.

**.**

He lay warm and sleeping beside me. I watched his chest rise and fall, rise and fall, rise, fall. I lifted my hand and let it hover over his face for a moment, contemplated stroking it; but for some reason I couldn't do it. I looked up at the ceiling, ran my hand through my hair. The sheet fell from my chest and landed softly about my waist. I shivered as the cool air wafted across my bare skin. The clock on the bedside table ticked steadily on. The seconds seemed so fast now; how they had inched along before.

I glanced down at the floor, at the little heap of my clothes at the foot of the bed. I breathed out slowly, looked down at Jacob. His brow creased, and he mumbled something, rubbed his closed eye. I bit my lip and slipped out of bed, my feet landing softly on the carpet. I crossed over to my clothes and dressed quickly. I wasn't sure where I was going, but I knew that I needed to get out of this little house and get away, get away quickly.

I didn't turn around to look at him as I shut the bedroom door, and I didn't even make an effort to be quiet as I exited the house, grabbing a jacket as I went. Jacob was a heavy sleeper; he slept through the vacuum cleaning, and all those neighborhood parties that kept me up all night; he would sleep through a nuclear explosion.

It was pitch black outside, and the air was cool and smelled of car fumes. It wasn't raining, but that odd wet murk which hangs around after a rainfall was still heavy in the air. I breathed in and out deeply, but my throat felt vaguely constricted. I almost choked on my own breath.

I set off down the road, determined to block out any thought from my head. The only sounds in the night were my own footsteps, and the distant base beats of a far-off party. I ran my fingers along a hedge as I passed it, pulling off a couple of leaves and ripping them to shreds. A small red car sped past me, the loud raucous laughter of teenage boys fading as it flew away.

A light, cool breeze drifted through my hair. I shivered slightly as I walked. The lights in the house next to me were on and I could see the outline of a woman through the window.

I carried on walking. I was determinedly locking away certain parts of my mind, and haphazard thoughts and memories surfaced to keep my brain occupied. The lines of some old pop song swung around my head. I found myself reciting the chemical equation for respiration. A few lines of a long forgotten poem streamed into my brain, and I focused on remembering the words to it as I stepped in time to its beats.

My footsteps accelerated as the locked doors in my head rattled, their doorknobs twisting; and then I was walking with a fury, no idea of where I was going or even where I was, fueled only by the desire to get far, far away, to do something other than remember the events of the night.

The hunger, fatigue and depression of earlier today were still heavy on my body, but they were outshone by an almost overwhelming feeling of nausea. I bit my lip and pressed a finger and thumb into my temples, shutting my eyes and walking on. Inevitably, I almost instantly fell over, tripping over something and flailing in the familiar arms of gravity. I stuck out a hand to stop myself crashing to the ground, merely landing with my papercut stinging again and my elbow raw. I opened my eyes to find myself sprawled out on the pavement, in the fringes of Cawdor, next to a long, ugly bridge with a wide concrete parapet running along it. The beer can I had tripped over rolled off down the silent road.

The streets behind were lit only by shallow pools of orange light, cast by stooping street lights. I turned back to the bridge, and with a groan I heaved myself to my feet. I walked over to the parapet, my footfalls loud in the silent night, and gripped the concrete edge, peering over the side and listening intently to the raging river below.

It was a powerful thing. I could not see the body of water that raged below me, but I could hear it loud and clear in the night air. I knew that somewhere, not far down the line, this river met the sea. Long ago Knives had been a port, dealing in slave-made produce and tropical delicacies. I tried to imagine the cargo ships that would once have sailed along, perhaps not under this ugly, modern bridge, but under another. It was hard to imagine that Cawdor had maybe once been beautiful; dark green and forested, and not pebble-dashed and derelict.

I gripped the concrete ledge, the moon slipping out from behind cloud cover. A dull, faint glow was cast over my surroundings, illuminating nothing but shapes and outlines. It was enough, however, to guide me up on the parapet and onto my feet.

It was stupid and reckless and childish; and maybe therein laid the reason for my wish. I had, long ago, lived off reckless things. Harry's death had awakened me to the stupidity of these activities; had even brought me back from a cliff edge. But at the moment I just wanted to feel foolish and innocent; feel like a little kid again. Maybe that way I could block out everything I did not wish to recall.

The wind whipped my hair and ruffled my shirt, and I unzipped my jacket slightly, feeling it press the cloth to my chest. I stretched my arms out wide and took a step. Below me on one side was the sturdy solid of the road- below me on the other the steady gush of water that moved faster than a truck and with more power than twenty horses. Especially after the rain.

I took another step.

When I had lived in Phoenix, there had been a playground just down the road from where we lived, and every day in summer Renee and I had bought ice creams from the tinkling van on the side of the road, and then played in there for hours. She had pushed my swing and held my hand as I climbed the wooden logs and balanced my way across the trapeze bars. I closed my eyes and imagined myself back there. The breeze on my face was the humid air of Phoenix, the parapet beneath me just a four foot log, and I wouldn't fall because my mom was holding my hand and guiding the way…

I opened my eyes and the darkness was almost a shock. The wind whispered through my outstretched fingers and my hair blew about my face. I leaned my head backwards to gaze at the sky. A few wispy clouds were floating across the moon. I fancied I could see a face in its surface- a kind of surprised face: two big eyes and an open mouth. I smiled up at it, bringing up a hand to push away my hair.

I rubbed my eye as it twitched, and pulled my arms back in. I sank down on the concrete surface, careful not to slip because to do so would mean a long fall down and a quick, cold death. Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall, Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.

I shook my head. I was playing the child part too well. I pulled my knees up to my chest. My eye twitched again, and I ran my fingers through my hair as I yawned. The wind was slowing and the air around me was growing warmer, although the darkness was still as complete as before. I closed my eyes and listened the gush of water below.

I heard the rustle of trees in the wind, the whoosh of the cars on the highway, the low boom of a male voice somewhere in the distance. The river still ran far below, a steady flow which sang through the air. Nearer, I could hear the small patter of small wind-tossed stones on the road, and the light crunch of a crisp packet skuttering along the pavement. I leant my head around and looked down at it, the dull silver moving along below me as the wind caught it and tossed it forward. It reminded me of the tumbleweed I used to occasionally see out of my bedroom window in Phoenix and on Looney Toons.

And then my head was full of Bugs Bunny and Wile E. Coyote, and my thoughts wondered along ancient storylines and ACME and stuttering pigs and huge mutant Tweety Birds. I smiled absently at these recollections, and I stretched out my legs so that they were dangling over the edge of the bridge, swinging in the darkness. My eye twitched again and the water continued to gush below.

I continued to wander the lost lands of childhood in my mind, only half aware now of the purpose of these distractions. I felt strangely giddy; tiredness had finally taken my reason hostage. I leaned further forward to see if I could see the water below. I couldn't, but the noise of the river still flowed through my ears. The last time I had been on a ledge like this I had almost jumped. For one irrational moment I wondered if you _could_ cliff dive off a bridge. But the river roared beneath me and I imagined the tide, the swell of the water as it would twist around me and drag me with it. Not a good idea.

I yawned, and my stomach growled. I felt the urge to hit it, as if this would shut it up.

I spun around on the small of my back, and lay down flat on the parapet, closing my eyes again. One of my hands dangled above the road, the other above death. The wind had lessened almost completely, and the air was tepid and comfortable on my skin. I yawned again. My mind set off along more paths, wondering through playparks and schools and biology classrooms and bright, sunny meadows…

…and I was running along the hospital corridors, Jacob holding my hand and dragging me along, shouting at me to hurry up. I kept saying that I _couldn't _hurry up, that I was tired, that I wanted to slow down and catch my breath before we carried on. But Jacob didn't understand. He wanted to run faster and faster, through this door and into the forest it led too, and we were still running, running… and then we were running through the meadow and Edward was watching us run, smiling at me as we passed. I tried to tug away from Jacob, begging him to let me stop and go back, go to Edward, but he shook his head, pulling me onwards. I desperately tried to turn around, but tripped and fell off a cliff and I was falling and falling and falling, and someone had hold of my shoulder and was shaking it, saying my name in a soft, high voice…

"Bella," my shoulder was still being shaken, and everything around was dark and blurred. "Bella," the voice said again, and something pale was hovering above my face. Wind wafted across my skin and I shivered.

"Bella?" I blinked, and a face swam into view. It was small and blurred, with bright red lips and wide, light eyes.

Alice let go of my shoulder and glared at me.

I yawned, blinking heavily, disorientated. I was outside, lying on something hard and stone. There was a crisp packet beside me.

"I took you off the ledge," Alice said. "It looked like you were having a nightmare and I didn't want you to roll off, because then I'd have to jump in after you and I like this sweater."

I yawned again, not quite hearing her, not taking anything in, not even fully realizing where I was. I hoisted myself up onto my elbow. I was vaguely aware of her sitting down next to me. She leant against the concrete of the parapet wall.

I was still on the bridge, though no longer lying on the parapet, and judging by the darkness around me it had not been long since I fell asleep. Fell asleep on the edge of nothing, a hundred foot drop below me, which I could easily have fallen down to my death…

I groaned, and rubbed my eyes with my fists. Sleep was still lingering over my brain, and nothing was clear yet. I slowly finished filtering the stupidity of my nap and dazedly began to process the presence of the figure sat next to me. I blinked one more time, and all haziness left me.

I stared at Alice, who raised her eyebrows at me. The dim moonlight illuminated her features, and she looked just as she always had done, young and bright and beautiful. She was mildly different to how I had remembered her; but that was merely because things that live only in your head are never true to their physical counterparts. I gaped dumbly at her, not quite understanding what was going on. I hadn't seen Alice for four years (save from a flash of black hair in a hellish courtroom), and still the only difference between memory Alice and real Alice was that the real one was even more stunning than the make-believe.

"So," she was the first to speak, her voice sharp. "Care to tell me what you're doing on a bridge in the middle of the night?"

I didn't answer, looking away from her and down at my feet.

"Bella?"

I sighed, and leant my head against the wall. "I guess," I said, "That I have finally lost it."

There was a silence; and then a little chuckle burst from her lips. I looked over at her and smiled weakly. She laughed again, and suddenly I was gripped between two small, thin and incredibly strong arms. "Oh, Bella," She pulled away so she could see my face. "You cannot _imagine _how much I missed you, Jasper's said that he's been able to tell how lonely I was. I've done nothing but worry about you and feel guilty and try and stop myself disemboweling my brother for four solid years and let me tell you it's near enough killed me, I mean I couldn't even see you, well of course not actually see you, but as in _see_ you see you as well, Carlisle said it was because of your dog. It's literally been driving me mad, and the whole house is just going nuts, what with me being on edge and Rose being, well, you know, the hugest bitch the world has ever seen, and Edward being typical Edward, and Esme crying all over the place…" she trailed wistfully off.

I stared at her, struggling to keep up with what she said and failing miserably. My mouth stumbled over a couple of words; "Alice- what?" I said. My voice was bleary. I was still busy absorbing her presence; it was like meeting a long lost sibling, only odder because this was the middle of the night on the pavement of a bridge.

I wanted to tell her this, tell her that seeing her again was like seeing a much-missed sister; but something in me held it back. It was as if the brick wall I had built around myself didn't just work for Jacob. I had kept everything to myself for so long that I couldn't tell what I really thought to anybody anymore. I could feel Alice's eyes on me and I unwillingly blushed.

"I saw you lying on the bridge," she told me. "In the future. I checked to see if you were going to fall off, and it didn't look like you were, but I couldn't be sure, you know how easily everything changes, so I came down to get you off. It was weird to see your future again, I hadn't been able to for so long. You need to get a new pet. I was always a cat person." She looked sulky for a second, and wrinkled her nose. "And cats don't smell so bad. He's rubbed off on you, Bella, you stink."

I frowned at her last few sentences, and opened my mouth to ask. But she explained quickly anyway. "Werewolves smell disgusting. It rubs off on you, I think. You smell like wet dog."

I spoke again, a few letters against her floods of talk. "You smell to him," I said, my voice low and strange next to hers. I didn't look her in the eyes as I spoke; my fingers were running along the tarmac of the pavement, moving up and down over the bumps and indents. "I had to have a shower today, after- "

I cut myself off, not wanting to drag the conversation anywhere near Edward.

Alice didn't press me, but smiled sadly, and I got the feeling she knew what I was talking about. _He_ had probably told her all about my little sobbing fit in the elevator. I felt myself blush and thanked heaven it was dark.

Mind you, Alice would probably be able to see me clearly anyway.

There was a short silence, during which I stared obstinately at the ground, moving my hands backwards and forwards over the pavement, not looking at her; but I could feel her eyes on me, and the awkwardness grew and grew. I wondered if she felt as self-conscious as I did, but I decided that she probably didn't. I wondered if Alice had ever felt ill at ease in her whole life.

"You look awful," she said, softly breaking the silence and putting a small finger under my chin. She peered at my face. "You actually look _ill_, Bella." I blushed deeper as her eyes wandered over my face, taking everything in and frowning at it all. "Are you okay?" And then her eyes looked hard at me. They were a light amber, and full of concern.

"Yes," I said. But the truthfulness of this statement was completely negated by the fact that Alice had found me fast asleep in the middle of the night on top of a _bridge_. "I'm just tired," I amended, looking away.

There was another silence, and this time I was sure that Alice had turned away too, and was staring at the other side of the bridge. We were both still sat leaning against the concrete, less than a foot apart, but neither of us said anything. I searched desperately for a topic of conversation. But what could I say? _"So, Alice, do you like bridges?"_

Eventually she, again, broke the silence. "I'm sorry," was her baffling conversation starter, and her tone did sound bewilderingly apologetic- to the point of wretchedness. I turned to look at her. All I could see was her profile, head turned up toward the sky, her neck bent backwards and her head against the wall.

"What are you sorry for?" I asked her. She didn't turn to look at me, and nor did she answer straight away- there was a short pause. The wind blew and the crisp packet pattered past my feet.

"For leaving you stranded," she said.

I frowned. "You didn't," I said, nonplussed.

"Yes, I did," she turned to look at me, her eyes wide. She looked desperate, almost like she was pleading with me. "I left you all alone in Forks, and I knew, I _knew _the whole time what you were going through, even though Edward told me not to look into your future. I couldn't help it; I was kind of attuned to you by then. I watched you suffer for months and months, I nearly lost my mind when I saw you on the edge of a _cliff_-" I blushed again, looking down at my hands so I could avoid her gaze. "But I didn't come and hug you or comfort you or any of it, and I know I should have done and I'm really really _really _sorry, Bella, really really-"

"It's okay," I said, quietly, hurriedly, more to appease her evident upset than anything else. She fell silent, waiting for me to continue.

I suppose I _could_ have been angry; she had given me enough reasons. But I wasn't, not at all. I searched for the words to explain, my hands pressed down on the hard roughness of the pavement, my skin scratching against it. The papercut stung. "I guess, that if…" I ran my finger over a huge lump of tarmac, feeling it press into my palm. "If I was…was going to _have_ to… let, you know, let him go," I paused, letting the embarrassment of this sentence fade before I continued. "It would have been better… if it had to be a break, then maybe a clean-"

"A clean break," she cut in, bitterly. "I've heard _that _before."

There was another silence. I could feel her eyes on me again. I fiddled with a loose thread in my jeans, pulling it out and winding it around my fingers.

"Alice…"

"Yes?"

I hadn't said her name with any idea of what to say next; but I did have a four-year long list of enquiries that I could send her way. I paused, wondering which of my many questions to ask. There were so many in my inventory that I _couldn't _ask, merely because I would sound stupid and pathetic, and because Alice and I weren't close anymore. I pondered for a few moments, before I selected a feeble, yet vaguely interesting one from my pile. "Where have you been, since you left Forks?"

She had tensed when I had uttered her name, but she relaxed against the railings again, her eyes lit up by the moon. "The Pyrenees. Lots of room and lots of food. Emmet and Rose went off travelling around Europe, but I'm not sure where… I don't like to ask about their holidays in too much detail, Emmett is always much too graphic." She grimaced. "But it's been really awkward. Jasper and I had to go away for a while because he couldn't handle Edward, and when Jasper gets depressed _I _tend to get angry and then…" she shrugged and sighed. "It's been a difficult few years. Everyone's had taut tempers and Esme has been really upset..." She paused, and I frowned. I could guess what she meant by Emmett's graphic stories, but I couldn't fathom out what she meant by Jasper's depression. I frowned, trying to concentrate. I knew about his empathy and the problems that came with it; but why would Edward have affected him? Chronic boredom? I felt an odd surge of satisfaction- _distractions not working out, Edward_?

"What about you, Bella?" Alice asked suddenly, her head turning to face me with unhuman sharpness. I shrugged, hoping she would dismiss the subject and move on. But the prolonged pause indicated otherwise. I sighed.

"Nothing, really. I finished school and Jacob wanted to leave, so we did."

This conversation was so surreal; it must be two or three in the morning, and I was casually chatting with an estranged vampire on top of a suburban bridge. It was the stuff of bad fanfiction.

The wind blew again and I tucked a stand of hair behind my ear. Somewhere in the distance a bird hooted, and the trees whispered things into the night.

"Why?"

"What?"

"Why did Jacob want to leave?"

The thread ripped in two as I shrugged again, struggling and failing to come up with an acceptable lie. "I don't know. Change of scenery."

"Oh." I could tell that she wasn't buying it, and she was probably offended that I wasn't telling her the truth; but it was just another sign of the gap that seemed to have opened in her four years of absence. I didn't want to open up to her. I couldn't.

But… I couldn't pretend that it wasn't nice to have her sat next to me, to have someone to talk to in the warm, dark night. It was almost like it used to be; except back in Forks I had felt as comfortable around her as I had around Renee, and our conversations had flowed with complete ease.

"What about college?" Alice's voice was curious, and maybe a bit confused. It sounded just like Renee's had done, when I had told her of my decision to move to Knives. It even held some of Renee's disappointment.

I fumbled with the two pieces of thread in my fingers, knotting them together then rolling them into a small, white ball. "I didn't see a point," I said, truthfully this time.

"You didn't want to go?"

"No," I said, quietly.

"Okay," she said, equally softly.

There was another long silence. I sat against the hard concrete, the wind picking up again and the air around me as black as before. The gush of the river still continued through the calmness. I lay the balls of thread on the ground and pressed them in between lumps of tarmac, holding them down with my finger. I didn't know what Alice was doing, but I kept imagining her eyes boring down into my skull. I had the feeling of being examined, like it had been in Carlisle's office, and in the elevator. I always felt that the Cullens could see more of me than I wanted to show them; there were things in my head I didn't want to share with anyone. Thoughts that were fit for nothing but the bottle in which I stored them.

I wished she would look away.

"I should go home," I said, finally. I turned to look at Alice, who was staring at me with evident concern. "I'm sorry. Jacob might wake up and worry about me, and I've got to get some sleep before work."

And as that sentence permeated my consciousness with its truth, to my absolute horror I felt tears pricking at the back of my eyes. But I couldn't hold them back. I knew that tomorrow would hold another day of unendurable fatigue, that alert vampire eyes would stalk my back all day, that Med Students would wear down my temper and Linda would drive me insane and Marley would be too busy for my piano lesson and Jacob would want to plan more wedding stuff and endless flower people and cake people and church people and food people and dress people would ring me and ask about colours and arrangements and payments and outstanding bills-

I found myself almost hating Jacob, for robbing me of the sleep I had so desperately needed, demanding of me things I had not wanted to give. I don't know if everyone gets like this; so stressed and tired that you've reached a point where you just want to curl up in a ball and cry and cry. Maybe it's only me. But I just lost all control.

I turned away from Alice, much as I had from her brother earlier that day. It was so _stupid, _stupid stupid _stupid,_ how I kept sobbing at nothing.

But Alice did not ignore my tears as Edward had done. Instead her arms were around me again and her head was on my shoulder, and I shut my eyes tight, longing for the sobs to stop so that I could just _appear_ to be normal again.

"Ssh," Alice whispered in my ear. "I'll talk to Carlisle. Ask if he can't get you a day off. He could, like, invent a conference for you to go to with him. Or say that you're coming on one of our imaginary hikes."

I tried to shake my head and tell her no, but I knew that I would let loose all havoc if I did or said anything. I just let her speak.

"I don't know what that _dog_ is doing to you, but it definitely isn't good."

I drew a rattling breath and shook my head. "No, Alice, J-Jacob isn't doing anything." I could hear my voice shaking, and I struggled to get it back under control. "You can't," I began, then took another breath. "You can't let Carlisle-"

"He's just as worried as I am," she said, firmly. "Just because Edward is an inconsiderate…" she held back a violently rude word and instead used a less offensive one; "…jerk, doesn't mean we all are. I am not going to watch you overwork yourself to the point of insanity, and I am not letting you leave your house tomorrow."

"No-" I protested.

"Bella?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up," she said, firmly. I paused before replying.

"Okay," I said, quietly. I was too tired to fight with her, anyway. What she was suggesting sounded perfect. I would sleep all day. Lie in bed and not think about Jacob or the wedding or Edward or anything.

"Good," she said, pulling away and smiling up into my face. "Please be happy, Bella."

I nodded, feeling stupid and self conscious and stupid and stupid and childish and stupid.

Alice hopped lithely up to her feet and held out her hand. I took it, holding back a yawn as she pulled me too my feet. Tiredness was attacking my body again, dragging my eyelids down and making me slow and clumsy.

We walked home together. She didn't say a word the whole way, and neither did I. But somehow, the mere fact that she was there, that maybe there was someone in the whole world who wasn't expecting me to be something I wasn't or do something I couldn't; I don't know. It was still as dark as before, but I wasn't feeling as awful as I had when I had left the house earlier that night.

I stumbled, and she laughed quietly and held me up.

We stopped at the end of my street. "I won't go any closer," she said. "Make sure you have a shower before you go back to bed, you probably stink of vampire." She smiled warmly, and the hugged me again. "Carlisle will sort something out, promise. Sleep well."

I nodded but I didn't reply, and she gave me one last smile before I turned and stumbled my way bedward.

**.**

**- Mistrust All Enterprises That Require New Clothes ****–**


	11. the

**twinkle, twinkle, little star**

**how I wonder what you are**

**up above the world so high**

**like a diamond in the sky**

**twinkle, twinkle, little star**

**how I wonder what you are.**

**((EPOV))**

**.**

All the lights were dimmed low, or glowing in an irritating blue which was a particular favourite of Esme's at the moment. The house was almost completely silent and empty, except for the occasional rustle as Jasper turned a page upstairs, and the buzz of the hot water pipes. The lingering smell of new plaster and paint hung heavy in the air, bright white patches spreading protective arms over the holes Rosalie and I had made in the walls. I ran my fingers up and down the piano keys, up and down, up and down, c d e f g a b c, c b a g f e d c, do re mi so fa la ti do. The notes rang out loud and clear, fast and flowing, and I made sure my touch was gentle. I did not want to lose my temper and break my piano, because if I did I definitely would go insane. Do ti la fa so mi re do.

My fingers stopped as I heard a slow set of footsteps working their way up the path. I could feel Alice's thoughts bubbling through the surface of my mind. I tried to keep them down; I knew she didn't like it when I pried, and come to that I didn't like it much either. But it was difficult, very difficult, and by the time she had opened the door I was on my feet, a buzzing panic rising up through me.

"Is she alright?" I demanded, trying and vaguely succeeding at keeping the fright out of my tone. Alice raised her eyebrows, and shut the door behind her. She wiped her feet on the mat.

"Well, it's good to know that my request that you _not_ invade my mind has been carefully considered, Edward-"

"Is she alright?" I asked again, impatiently cutting her off. She looked at me for a second, then sighed, ran her hands through her hair.

"Are you alright?" she asked, and I almost growled with aggravation. She seemed to think this an appropriate answer, because she looked up at the ceiling and asked me, casually, whether Jasper had come down at all while she'd been out.

"Alice, please," I said, stepping forward and taking her by the shoulder, turning her to face me. "Please, tell me she's okay."

"Do you think I would have kept it from you if she were dead, Edward?"

I looked at her, opened my mouth to speak again, and found I had nothing to say. I released her and turned back to the piano. Alice stood still behind me as I sat down on the stool. I ran a chromatic all the way from the top to the bottom, then back up again. Alice hadn't moved. Upstairs, Jasper turned another page. Blues scale in G, up, down. I played the opening to a requiem I had forgotten the name, or composer, of.

I heard Alice walking towards me and determinedly ignored her. She stood behind me for a moment, watching my fingers move. "Play that other one, the soft one you were doing the other day," she requested.

"Which?" I asked. Our voices were both quiet.

"You know," she said, and hummed it. I pressed the opening note, ran through the first few bars. "That's it," she said, "What is it?"

I turned and looked up at her. "I'm sure you know it," I said, "And you could play it, too, it's not hard at all."

"Where's it from?"

"Pride and Prejudice."

"No it isn't," Alice said, frowning at the keys and sitting down at the leg of the piano, resting her head against the black varnish.

"The Keira Knightly version." Her face cleared and she smiled up at me.

"Never seen it," She said. I raised my eyebrows at her and she smiled. "Don't look at me like that, I like the old one. I like Colin Firth as Mr Darcy, and I like the girl that plays Lizzie. She has that thing with her mouth as if she's always having a little private laugh, and that's what Elizabeth Bennett is supposed to be like. And Mrs Bennett is really good. I don't want to ruin it by watching a new version. Though…" she ran a finger along the piano leg and checked her finger for non-existent dust. "Maybe it would be nice to see a Jane who doesn't look like a troll. Emmett was unbearable last time I watched it. He can be such a… _man_, and it's difficult to concentrate when he and Rose were estimating the size of her neck_._" She sighed. "Poor woman, though, it was a bit thick."

"I like Mr Collins in your one," I said, playing the last note and starting another piece.

"He always puts me in mind of a moon," Alice said, wistfully. I looked down at her and laughed. She joined in, bending her knees up and smoothing her sweater. "It's true! His face is perfectly round."

Mr Collins appeared in her head and snuck through the doors I was struggling to keep shut. I laughed. "A lot of things are round, Alice, not just the moon."

"Shut up," she said.

"What time is it?" I asked. She looked down at her watch.

"Half three," she said. I groaned.

"Sad hours seem long," I quoted, gloomily.

Alice laughed again, and played along. "What sadness lengthens Edward's hours?"

"Not having that which having makes them short," I replied, concentrating anew on the keys. Conversation ceased as I pressed down some chords, trying to formulate a tune and failing miserably. Alice flicked some fluff off her skirt and straightened her tights. She looked up at me and I waited for her to look away, but she didn't, and finally I gave in and looked down at her.

"What?" I asked.

"I miss this," she said.

"What?"

"It used to be like this all the time, don't you remember? We used to have conversations which didn't result in me yelling at you or you losing your temper. You used to make fun of me and I used to make fun of you and we could be in a room with each other for hours instead of just five minutes." Alice looked away from me and stared up at the ceiling, a sly smile creeping across her face. "And you used to only _tease_ Rose, instead of throwing her into a wall."

There was a long silence, and I pressed down the top and bottom keys of the piano at the same time. I tried to find a way of explaining to Alice, searching my mind. Upstairs Jasper turned another page, and I could hear him putting headphones in. I appreciated the privacy. "I'm sorry, Alice," I said, after a while.

"It's okay," she said, and rubbed my leg. "I just don't like seeing you upset, Edward. I'm sorry that I get angry with you. But I can't understand it. It's like I have two brothers: the one who I love; and the one who's a moody git that I want to throw out of a window."

"I definitely want to be the first of those two options."

"Then why don't you?"

"Because… I don't know. I can't." I changed the c to a c sharp and played the chord twice, switched key, moved up a semi tone. "The side of me that you love, the side that's worth anything, I think she's got." I looked at Alice, and she smiled sadly. I ran my hand through my hair and laughed feebly. "Maybe it's in her coat pocket and I can just take it out the next time I go to the hospital."

"She doesn't wear coats, Edward. Bella's a hardcore leather-clad biker, remember."

I pursed my lips, and Alice laughed. "Oh, don't worry. She'll be fine. She's obviously not an amateur."

"She's obviously an idiot."

Alice shrugged. "Maybe. You wanted her to go off and do human stuff, though, and she wasn't just going to sit home and sew."

"I didn't give her up so she could go off and break her neck," I said, my tone almost angry now. "The plan was more college, job, happiness."

"She would have had that with you there."

"With the minor downside of possibly being killed."

"She could possibly have been killed tonight. She could possibly be killed by her pet dog. She could possibly swerve too far on her bike tomorrow-"

I pressed my elbows into the keys and cupped my face in my hands. The jarring notes rang out in the dim room. "Point made, Alice," I said, quietly.

There was another long silence before Alice spoke again. "College, job, happiness," she repeated. "What about college, job, love? Marriage? Children?" I pressed my fingers harder into my face. Alice's voice was very quiet. "Come on, Edward. Did you ever really want that for her? Honestly?"

"Of course I wanted it for her," I said, through the gap between my wrists. I had, I did. I wanted her to be happy; even the selfish part of me wanted that. "I just," I said, thinking. "I just never planned to be around to watch it happen." I could sense that shaking in me again, that feeling that I was standing on very thin ice. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "I always just thought," I said, my voice a whisper, "that that would be that. I never really considered having to _watch_ her being… with someone else."

"She isn't in love with him, Edward."

I ran my hands through my hair, dug my nails into my scalp, rested my head in the crook of my elbow. Keys went down on either side of me, ringing out low and random in the stillness.

"Edward?"

"I know she isn't," I said, very quietly. Alice opened her mouth to speak, then closed it and stared up at me. Her obvious disbelief irritated me a little. "I didn't just ignore her when we were in Forks, Alice. I do know her."

Her face jerked back into shape. "Of course you do."

"She…" I took a breath, sat up, rubbed my forehead. "She doesn't act like she did when we were together. She doesn't smile, not really. She used to do the smile she uses now whenever I said something that worried her, or whenever she was thinking about something that upset her. It's not her real smile; it's the one she uses to mask what she's feeling, because that's who she is. There's something wrong in the way she… I can't explain it," I said, shaking my head. "I can just _tell_. And she's always frowning; she doesn't even realise she's doing it, she'll sit and frown for hours if you don't tell her; whenever we went hunting she'd be frowning when we left and she still would be when we came back. And she bites her lip. And she doesn't stand the way she used to. She keeps her shoulders perfectly straight," I drew a line in the air, "and close together. Head down, hands in pockets, biting her lip." I looked down at the keys, trying to keep the words I was saying as just words, not memories. "People who are in love are happy," I said, quietly. "And she wouldn't run away from me crying if she was in love with someone else."

Alice was very still for a second, then she slowly got to her feet and pushed me along the stool, sitting down next to me. I didn't look up from the piano, my fingers still resting on the keys. She reached behind me and wrapped her arm over me, resting her head on my shoulder. I lay my head on top of hers and closed my eyes. Feelings I didn't have the energy to single out and name swirled around inside of me, made me feel physically sick. I couldn't get Bella's tears out of my head.

"I hate all those things," I said, softly. "I want to walk up to her and correct her, show her the way she used to hold herself. Tell her to stop chewing her lip. Make her laugh so she'll smile properly." Alice squeezed her arm around me. "And what makes it worse," I continued, "Is that I know I did it to her."

She didn't say anything and I knew, without having to open the locked doors into her mind, that it was because Alice agreed; that it was what I had done that had caused the trouble. She rested the fingers of her free hand on the keyboard, and pressed down notes. The lyrics ran through my head along with the simple tune; _twinkle twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are._ "Up above the world so high," Alice sang lightly. "Like a diamond in the sky." I opened my eyes and watched her fingers. "Twinkle twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are." She was still for a moment, then sat up, pushing me up with her. "Edward," she began, gingerly. "If I ask you something, do you promise you won't…"

"Lose my temper?"

"I was going to say start crying, but that too."

Her fingers traced over the nursery rhyme again and I watched her. "I promise," I said.

"If you know that she isn't in love with dogbreath-"

"His name is Jacob," I said.

"You don't care either way."

"I'm sure Bella would," I said, heavily. Alice shrugged.

"Whatever. You know she isn't in love with our dearest, beloved Jacob, so why not, you know… just go back to her?"

I didn't answer. I pressed down the first notes of Debussy's First Arabesque, up and down, up and down, a small climb and then the descent. Alice put her hands over mine to stop me, and looked into my eyes. "Edward?"

I looked away, and shook my head. "I said I'd leave her, so-"

"Oh don't give me that, Edward. You're a pretty selfless person most of the time, I'll grant you. But I know you're as selfish as Rosalie when it comes to Bella, so spit out the real reason."

I didn't want to voice it. That little niggling thought in my head that had been eating away at me ever since I'd seen her again, spreading through me like a slowly growing disease.

"Edward?"

I ran my hand through my hair, looked at the closed curtains over the windows.

"Edward, come on."

"What if she says no?" I asked, quickly as I could, not looking at her. Alice didn't respond, although I waited for her to. I tried to continue; "After telling her-" but I broke off, closed my eyes, pressed the heels of my palms unnecessarily into my eyes. I tried to keep myself under control. "After telling her I didn't love her, and leaving her for four years, how-" I could feel the ice I was stood on cracking, and I struggled to take in a breath that didn't catch in my throat. "How could she say yes, Alice?" I took another unsteady breath. "I can't hear her say no, I can't do it. It would kill me if she said no."

"I don't think she would."

"How can you know that?" I asked her, desperately. "I know I'm selfish, Alice, and I know it's wrong, but the thought of hearing her say it, the thought of losing her all over again… the thought of her being someone else's for the rest of her life, being in the arms of someone else; not even just the arms, but in the _bed_…" I trailed off.

"Oh Edward, be realistic, she's already-"

"Please, Alice," I said, my voice breaking. There was another long quiet.

"But," Alice began, gently, after a minute or so. "Wouldn't it all be worth it if you got her back again?"

"Of course it would," I spat, bitterly, my words only getting out just in time to avoid another huge, rattling breath.

"Then," she said, slowly, "_Go for it_."

**.**

**((review.s'.plait))**


	12. sight

**A woman who my mother knows  
Came in and took off all her clothes.**

**Said I, not being very old,  
'By golly gosh, you must be cold!'**

**'No, no!' she cried. 'Indeed I'm not!  
I'm feeling devilishly hot!'**

**.**

_You got two calls- 1 from the hospital saying they wanted you at a conferenc__e thing in Spoons, and another one from the hospital saying conference cancelled but they already had someone working your shift so you could take the day off and sorry for any inconvenience caused. Would have woken you up but you looked so peaceful. Love you, won't be back till six, Jake._

**.**

"So you just slept all day?"

I nodded, opening the appointment spreadsheet for Thursday and typing in _Mr Pole, stitches_. I was feeling brilliant, compared with how I had felt the previous few days. I was even able to have a decent conversation with Linda, something I had not managed since I had started here.

"And you didn't wake up, not once?"

"No."

She sighed, and leant back in her seat. "I have been there, love." She smiled at me. "I remember when I married Keith I nearly, like, stabbed myself. Or stabbed him," she added, laughing loudly in the usual Linda-ish fashion. "How many days to go, then, till the big day?"

"Eight," I said, and was very pleased to find I could say this without breaking down into paroxysms of grief. I was obviously better at damning myself to a life of unhappiness when I had had a good nineteen hours sleep.

"Big white wedding? You'll look really cute in a dress, I've always thought you had a good figure. If you can believe it, I used to be young and attractive too, if I say so myself." Raucous laughter. My lips twitched. "I didn't dye my hair back then, it was natural, and I wasn't quite so round as I am now. I suppose I didn't eat so much and I watched less T.V. Can't imagine my life without Next Top Model!" She let out another laugh, and I couldn't help it; I laughed at her. She didn't seem to notice; probably just thought I was enjoying her marvellous anecdotes.

It was incredible how much better I felt. I wasn't behaving like a sixteen-year-old manic depressive. I wasn't thinking any gloomy thoughts, I wasn't contemplating my miserable life, I wasn't about to drop unconscious from fatigue every other second. I felt like I could face anything and keep control. Anything at all.

It was raining outside, of course. Heavy and diagonal, slamming into the window and dribbling down the pane. I watched people as they ran in from the carpark, wiser ones clutching partly unfurled umbrellas, and those less prepared holding newspapers over their heads. The doors swung open and people shook their umbrellas, water droplets flying around them and arcing through the air. A father came inside clutching his son beneath his coat. An ambulance nee-nawed its way behind the building.

I ordered a batch of Paracetamol boxes while Linda chatted to a Mr Hartly, who was worried about an unpleasant growth on his chin. A three-month pregnant woman came in for an appointment. A man with a cast on each arm asked the way to the elevator. It was just like any other normal, pre-Cullen day, only I was feeling tolerant, and on top of everything.

I turned around as I felt an elbow jerking into my ribs. Linda was looking directly into the windows, watching a reflection in them. "Heads up, hottie coming," she whispered. My head snapped up, and then snapped right back down.

_Anything, Bella?_

Linda's phone hummed urgently out and I grabbed out at it desperately. "Hello, Knives Hospital," I said into the receiver. I was clicking the mouse manically, opening Minesweeper by mistake. A male voice buzzed in my ear. I half-listened, conveying the required information in a quick, quiet voice. I hit a series of random keys. I tried frantically to open a spreadsheet, and hurriedly began typing in random make-believe appointments for people who did not exist. I could sense his eyes on me again, and I could practically feel him nearing the desk, and then I saw a pale hand resting on the wooden surface. I knew he was towering above, looking straight down at me. I felt a huge blush splash over my face.

"Can I help you?" Linda's stuttered question made it obvious that Edward Cullen was working his normal paranormal magic.

"No, thank you."

His voice sent my pretence into overdrive. "Tomorrow? Four thirty with Mr Johnson. We'll give you directions from the front desk." A low buzz on consent fizzled in my ear and the phone went dead. I set it down and pretended to be busy on the spreadsheet for a few more seconds.

It was as if his gaze was boring a hole into my head. My face went even redder. Maybe he was trying to read my thoughts again, like he used to, and I hoped to God he hadn't worked out how-

"Bella?"

It was not the fact that he had said my name, but the way he said it that made me look up. His voice sounded like velvet, as always; but hesitant. It still stopped my heart in my chest and made me jump, but when I raised my head to face him, my expression was confused.

He did not look well. His irises were dark and his eyebrows were set. He seemed paler than normal, and the purple rings under his eyes were more pronounced. He looked almost as bad as I did. He seemed to be holding back words, and

There was a long silence. I stared at my computer screen, moving the mouse in circles. He didn't move; his hand still rested on the desk, the green of his jumper visible in my peripheral.

Linda shifted beside me, ran the perfectly straight line of her hair between two fingers. "Is there anything you want?" she asked, in a simpering voice which made my blood curdle. My fist curled around my mouse. She was _married._ And nearly forty.

There was another long pause, and then I heard a short, incredulous laugh. I couldn't help lifting my head, and his eyes met mine straight away; they had already been trained on me. He was running his hand through his hair, looking down at me with wide eyes. He said something under his breath, so quiet I couldn't hear it. The fingers of his other hand were pressing hard in the wood. He was going to leave dents. People would wonder why there were five perfect, finger-shaped indents in the desk.

Without conscious decision, without even thinking about it, I raised my hand to his. Gently, I pushed his tensed hand away from the desk. A shiver of recognition murmured through me as my fingers met his cold skin. His hand relaxed as soon as we made contact.

"Be careful," I said, quietly. He met my eyes for a second; then I looked away, pulled my hand from his. It felt strangely empty.

There was another pause, during which neither of us moved. Then slowly, so slowly it seemed almost unreal, he started to walk towards the main hospital.

I still did not breathe, as I lifted my head to watch him go. Just as he was about to disappear into the mass of people in the hallway, I saw him raise his hand to his mouth, fingers curled.

I turned from the scene, staring blankly at my computer screen.

"What was that?" Linda breathed, staring at me.

I took a long deep breath, and turned back to my spreadsheet. "Nothing," I said, and it was me talking again. My voice was quiet and shaky. "Nothing."

There were five tiny little holes in the wood of the desk. I placed a hole-puncher over them, and went back to work.

.

**He watches her from a distance, eyes locked on her every movement, watching her face, trying to decipher her mind. He can still feel her touch on the skin of his hand. He can still hear her voice. **

**His resolve is crumbling further away with every breath she takes.**

**.**


	13. I

**Not from this anger, anticlimax after  
Refusal struck her loin and the lame flower  
Bent like a beast to lap the singular floods  
In a land strapped by hunger  
Shall she receive a bellyful of weeds  
And bear those tendril hands I touch across  
The agonized, two seas.  
Behind my head a square of sky sags over  
The circular smile tossed from lover to lover  
And the golden ball spins out of the skies;  
Not from this anger after  
Refusal struck like a bell under water  
Shall her smile breed that mouth, behind the mirror,  
That burns along my eyes.**

**…**

The air up here was so light.

Alice had called earlier this morning. Jacob was away; he had left for Forks yesterday afternoon, and wasn't due back until tomorrow. He had gone up to check everything was okay with Embry, his best man, and Leah, who was going to be my maid of honour, purely for lack of anyone else. He was also going to check that Charlie's suit buttoned up, and by that I meant all the way.

The huge upside of his disappearance was not only that I had had all of Saturday to do wedding things and get everything out of the way without him meddling, but also I had complete freedom to see whichever vampiric personas I wished.

"Do you know what I like about being up here?" She asked me.

I could think of plenty. The day was warm and the view was almost ethereal; Alice and I were almost at the peak of the highest slope in the valley, and it was like having the world at our feet. Forest smothered the land that fell downward below us, ceaseless green for miles and miles. When the breeze rushed through the treetops it looked like the hill itself was moving, heaving and blowing. It seemed so huge and dense that I could hardly believe we had climbed it; it had taken all morning. The air all about was saturated with that bittersweet, resinous, earthy smell that seeps from evergreens. It clung to the breeze. Above us were sheets of rock, rising completely vertical for thirty feet, the cracks filled with weeds and nests and tiny little wildflowers, and beyond that you could just see the last steep rise that would take you to the very top of the hill. To have such an expanse below and such a rise above had something poetic in it; the world seemed to be saying something. Look forward. There's no way back. Look forward. It's beautiful there.

The tiny buildings of Knives and Cawdor looked so insignificant from this distance, like a badly made model town. Little tiny cars tottered their way along the grey ribbon that was the highway; the thought that there were people inside of them seemed almost ridiculous. I could see a small white blob that would be an ambulance pulling into the back of the small splatter of building that was the hospital. The farmland around the city coloured the ground red and green and brown, and separated it up like patchwork. The sky was blue and the clouds were thin and wispy, like cold breath. The sun, a huge white flash, hung in the sky, and as it bore down on us I began to feel quite hot.

"What?" I asked, finally.

"Being alone." Alice sighed, and closed her eyes. "Except for you, of course. Without the irritation of _other people._" She pulled her knees up under her chin, catching the hem of her skirt before it slid down her legs. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I love people, I love my family and I love talking to random strangers and finding out about them, when I get a chance. But it's nice to just _think._ And it's nice being with you the annoyance of angry werewolves. Or angrier brothers." She laughed. "Just to chat, you know, when you aren't upset and I'm not worried that you're going insane."

She was referring to the bridge. "I'm sorry about that," I said, smiling tentatively but not looking at her. Alice was shimmering slightly, her skin giving of a weak unearthly glow. I didn't want to oggle. But supernatural-awe immunity had always been one of my more useless skills, and the view from up here set my mind at ease; I found myself more than capable. I gazed back over the city. The wind blew over my skin and calmed my mind.

"You can see my house from here," I said, softly. The rear of it, at least, and the mess that was my back garden. I sighed slightly. I remembered being on the roof with Jacob, and thinking I was high up then. That was nothing now.

"I like your motorbike," Alice said, and I looked at her in surprise, then turned and squinted. I could just about make out a black dot. "It's an old one, isn't it?"

I nodded, slowly. Getting used to vampire powers again was proving difficult. "Jacob likes to fix up old cars and bikes."

"I've wanted to see it ever since Edward was threatening to slash the tires," Alice said, casually. I did not respond to her cavalier mention of him; she had been slipping them in all day, nonchalantly trying to turn the subject around. I supposed she had heard all about Friday's escapades, and I was not anxious to discuss them. "He doesn't like it all that much."

I ran my index finger along a crack in the rock, back and forth. The edges were uneven and jagged, as if it had been recently broken. Lighting.

"You can't see my house, though," Alice broke the silence and pointed forward, to the top of the next hill. "It's there, in the middle of all the trees. You can see the roof and the big window- or I can, anyway." She smiled at me. I followed her finger and strained my eyes, but I couldn't make out anything. Just forest, not a single house of any sort.

"Nothing," I said, smiling resignedly at her. "I think your eyesight is a little better than mine."

"Shame, it's really pretty. Esme really enjoyed converting it; she can't have kids so she has us; and houses. It's an old church, a small one, with a bell tower with a huge grey bell in it. You can sit under it, it's like something from novel. People used to live up on these hills, farmers and shepherds and stuff, and it was built so they didn't have to go all the way down to the valley. You should come over and see it, only…" She sighed, and looked at me. "You know." Her voice was glum.

I knew.

We were silent for a while. Alice had her eyes closed and I stole a glance at her, watching as light threw itself off her in strange, wonderful colours. My mind wandered as I turned away and looked down below me, and my thoughts stumbled over an unpleasant memory.

"Wedding rehearsal tomorrow," I said, with the same degree of dread in my heart as in my tone.

"Are you not excited?" Alice asked, turning her cheek against her knees and facing me. I looked at her, and shrugged.

"I guess."

She frowned at me, and bit her lip, clearly pondering what to say. Her eyes worked over my face, and I could tell she was readying herself to make a speech of some kind. She took a long, sad breath. "Bella-"

"It's just," I cut her off, before she could begin, "really stressful. It's bad enough I have to go through the whole ceremony thing once, with everyone staring at me, let alone _rehearse_ the embarrassment. And Embry and Leah and Charlie are all coming down tomorrow, so there's even _more_ stress for me." I sighed. "Well, at least this time I don't have to wear the stupid dress."

Alice gasped, and sat up. "The dress! I can't believe it, I forgot all about _the dress_! Oh Bella, I must see it, I really truly honestly _must_! Is it lovely? Is it lace or silk or cream or white? Do you have a tiara? A train? Describe it to me!" She spun around and landed, cross legged, to face me, her huge eyes wide.

I ran my fingers along the crack in the rock, backwards and forwards. "It's not exciting."

Alice looked appalled. "Don't say that! It is! It's my favourite part! Well, you know, apart from the romance and eternal love and all that side of it, although it's a really close call. When Jasper and I got married, the… seventh time, Esme made me this huge poofy white thing, all silk and lace, and when I walked it looked more like I was floating than anything, because you couldn't see my feet or legs. It was so big we had to search through forty different churches before we found one with an aisle wide enough…"

I smiled at her as she eagerly chatted on, her face animated and her eyebrows moving up and down in accordance to the good and bad features of her abundant weddings. Her skin was glimmering, and it was odd how it didn't freak me out at all. Rather, it entranced me. I couldn't help but feel drab next to her; like a diamond beside a pebble.

"Bella?" Alice was peering at me. "You look miserable all of a sudden. Are you okay?"

"Yes," I said, automatically. Alice frowned sceptically.

"Mmm."

We sat in silence for a while, me tracing the crack in the rock and Alice alternately shooting me furtive glances and biting her lip. I could tell that words were building up within her and sure enough, they soon popped out.

"Bella, I've wanted to say this all day and now I'm going to. If you don't love him you shouldn't marry him."

My finger stopped moving. Alice was sat perfectly still next to me. She was waiting for me to respond.

"I do love him."

There was a long silence. I stared at my feet, waiting for Alice to reply. She didn't. I snuck a glance at her face and met her eyes. She did not look like she believed me. Her face was set and her eyebrows were ever so slightly raised. I quickly looked away and ran my finger along the crack again.

"Bella?"

I sighed, and met her gaze. "I do, Alice, I really do."

Alice took another breath. "Like a husband or like a brother?"

I couldn't meet her eyes, but ran my finger up and down the crack. It dug into my finger. I waited for her to continue, and was very glad indeed when she didn't. The sun dimmed as a cloud passed over it, then the ground lightened again as it came out. I was about to say how much _I _liked it up here, too, but Alice suddenly said something unexpected.

"Shit."

I turned to look at her, eyebrows raised. "What?" But she didn't look at me- her eyes were fixed on something I couldn't see, and the glazed look of them made me suspect that maybe her thoughts were not those of the present. "What is it?" I asked, frowning. "What's going to happen?"

She blinked, and turned sharply to me. Her eyes cast around the way eyes do when their owner is thinking hard. Then they snapped onto me.

"What did you see?"

She stared at me, her mind obviously still rocketing along at a million miles a minute, and she held her breath, lips tight. At last she cast her eyes out over the horizon and sighed. "Something I can't change," she said, and her voice was suddenly heavy. "Oh, Bella," and she leaned over and hugged her small, granite arms around me.

"What? What is it?"

She released me, and smiled sadly. "I hate that wolf. I hate him."

"What? Why?"

I questioned her all day, but she would say nothing. A strange air of resigned gloom had descended over her, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get the reason out of her.

…

It took us four hours to get back down again. Alice left me at the bottom of my road, and I made my way up it quickly. The wind had been getting stronger as the day went on and it was now breathing coldly all over me. I shivered and pulled my jacket closer around me. It was nearly seven, and the light was growing pale and grey. The street lights were on, but it wasn't dark enough for them to make any difference; their orange gleam shone weak and pathetic. A car shot past, and a boy leaned out of the window and yelled something at me as they drove past. I couldn't hear it over the pounding of their music. A beer can flew out of the car window and rattled along the road.

It was a relief to turn up my drive; struggling to walk faster because I knew that Alice could have done the journey in two minutes and not wanting to hold her up. I just wanted to go to bed. Maybe have a cup of tea.

My eyes fell on Jacob's Rabbit and my heart froze mid-beat, then fell to my feet.

No- no no no-

He couldn't be home. He wasn't supposed to be home until tomorrow. He had said tomorrow. We had agreed, tomorrow. Embry and Charlie and Leah were coming down with him _tomorrow. _I had gone out with Alice because we had agreed he would be coming home _tomorrow._

But the kitchen light was on, and I was stood in the driveway stinking of Vampire.

I fought the urge to turn and run away.

I knew Jacob well, and I knew that wherever the undead were concerned he always jumped to the worst possible conclusion. If I walked in there and stank out the place he would only be able to think of one explanation, and I suddenly saw how awful this was going to look.

I ran my hands through my hair and craned my neck back, searching the twilit sky for a solution. I felt sick with a sudden dread. I didn't want to hurt Jacob, and I knew there was no reason for him to be hurt, but there was no way he would believe me. _I didn't go out with Edward, I went for a walk with his sister._ It sounded unbelievable even in my head.

I could run away and sleep on the street corner, say I spent the night at- Linda's. I groaned. He knew I hated Linda, and although we'd lived here nearly two and a half years I'd never had the courage to make friends with anyone else. Except Marley. But that would sound even weirder. Maybe I could run straight into the shower. Open the front door and leap across the hallway, and fill his nostrils with mint shampoo rather than vampire scent. It wouldn't work, I knew it, but what other option did I have? The gravel crunched under my feet as I forced myself up to the front door. As soon as I could afford it, I was going to pour tarmac over every single raucous little stone.

I paused at the front door, my fingers clutching the handle. _One_, I thought, praying Jacob was listening to his ipod or something, _two_, praying he had a blocked nose and no decongestant,_ three-_ and down went the handle, and I tried to run across to the bathroom, but stumbled over my own feet and hit the door with a thud.

Of all the times to be clumsy. I was so _useless._

I heard the kitchen door slowly scrape open and I couldn't bring myself to look up.

There was total silence. I leant against the door and stared at the carpet, the weight of Jacob's gaze heavy on my shoulders. Nothing happened for a good minute, except my heart thumped away like a brass band.

"So," he said, eventually, and his deep voice made me jump. "Have a good day?"

I set my lips and looked up at him. His face was blank and his shoulders were slack. His hair looked limp. His whole body seemed to have wilted. One look into his eyes confirmed what I had predicted; he had selected the worst possible explanation, and jumped straight into it, like a suicidal idiot and a freight train. I watched as he swallowed. His eyes burned.

"Jake…" I began, with no clear idea of what to say next. "I- it wasn't him, Jake." My voice sounded like a lie, even to me. "It was his sister."

"Right," he said, his voice clipped, and I could see behind his cold, empty face. I knew him well enough to know when he was upset, and he sure as hell was now.

"It really was, I promise."

"Your promises," he said, slowly, as though measuring his words. "Usually mean fuck all."

I stared at him for a moment. "Jake, I'm not lying, I just went for a walk with Alice, I promise-"

He shook his head. "I've been stupid."

"Jake-"

"I should have known right from the off," he said, running his hands slowly through his hair, eyes wide and hurt, "when you came home, every day, stinking of them, with your _stupid_ excuses-" his voice was slowly getting louder "- about how you couldn't help but run into them, how you didn't _want _to go near them but it was inevitable- I mean, that hospital is the size of a fucking _cathedral_-"

I winced slightly as his voice got louder still. I had seen him like this, many a time. Jacob never liked to show weakness; he liked to get angry instead.

"-in fact, I should have known from that day at the court, and I should never have believed what you said afterwards. How long have you been sneaking around behind my back, Bella?" He asked, and he took a step toward me.

"Jake, please-"

"How long? Have you been laughing at me this whole time?" He put on a high pitched voice in crude imitation of my own. "Stupid, naïve, silly little Jacob, who'll believe anything I tell him-"

"No, Jake, I haven't, I truly haven't-"

"-who'll buy anything I say because he _loves _me, who thinks I'm so _super-duper awesome_."

There was another long silence. Jacob's shoulders rose and fell with each breath he took. I cast around for words. "Jake-"

His voice dropped back to its usual level as he cut me off. "So, while I was up in Forks organizing our wedding, were you having a lovely little time with your vampire boyfriend? Charlie's suit buttons up, by the way, I went and checked." I opened my mouth to speak again but he cut me off, his dark eyes boring into mine, the dim light of the corridor turning his skin a deep caramel. "Leah says her dress fits just fine. Embry told me to tell you that he can't wait. Billy says he's so _pleased_." Jacob's eyes burned ever harder but he didn't pause, and his voice was low, and strangely… I searched for the word. Menacing. "He's so _pleased_ that I'm marrying you. But I guess I'll have to call him and set him straight, right, Bella?"

"No, Jake, please listen to me-"

"Why should I?" And his voice dropped again, as he hissed. He took another step forward. The hallway was very small but it suddenly felt even smaller, with Jacob's huge body towering over me. He was so big. "How am I to believe anything you say, hey, Bella?"

"I'm telling the truth!"

He laughed sarcastically, and took another step towards me. He was a foot away now, and without thinking I pressed myself against the door.

"You are not telling the truth. You _stink." _His nostrils blew out wide as he breathed, heavy and angry._ "_I came back down early because I missed you," he said. "I wanted to give you a surprise. I've been so excited, see. But I guess I was never quite good enough for someone who only loves leeches."

I stared up at him. He didn't seem like Jacob at all. He was glaring into my face with force, and something in his eyes made me shiver.

"Jacob," I said, slowly. "You know I love you-"

"Shut up!" He yelled, and I jumped. "You think you can make up some crappy little story and I'm going to buy it?" His squeaky rendition of my voice returned, "_It wasn't him, it was his sister! _I'm supposed to believe that you weren't having it off with him behind my back, you were taking a stroll with Alex or Anna or whatever the fuck her name is! I'm not a genius like _you_, sure, but I'm not a retard, I know you hate this house and your job, but it wasn't me who decided not to go to college! You constantly mope around the place, sulking like a fucking _kid_ who's just been told they can't have a fucking _pony._ Everytime I make a joke you put on this stupid fake laugh. If I want to get out of you what's going on in your head I have to take you up on the fucking _roof_-"

Everything he was saying was true, and I couldn't bring myself to argue, to lie like I normally would. I just gaped up at him while he yelled at my face. Spittle landed on my cheek.

"-and then, after trying my best to live up to your impossibly high standards, you go and do _this_?"

"Jake, I haven't done anything," I said, trying to sound calm. He stared down at me, then closed the gap between us and towered over me, his body heaving. "I would never- sneak off behind your back, I wouldn't-"

"Stop lying to me!" He yelled, "STOP, IT!" He slammed two fists into the wall on either side of me with each word. Puffs of plaster rose up around his balled hands. He had me trapped beneath his body and all I could do was stare up into his eyes as he carried on yelling. "If your aim was to make a fool of me, consider it done, because I feel like a right _idiot_." He glared down at me, and I gazed up at him. He was the snake. I was the small furry animal. "Stop looking at me like that!" He yelled. "Don't act so upset, Bella, because I'm the one whose heart's just been stamped on-"

"Jacob, please!"

"NO!"

"Jacob, stop it, you're scaring me-"

"Good," he snarled. "I'm hurt and heartbroken but most of all I'm pissed off, with myself for being so stupid, with that bastard bloodsucker for being the devil spawn he is, but most of all, Bella, I'm pissed off with _you._"

His chest heaved. I could see each and every separate piece of stubble around his chin. I opened my mouth to argue again, but closed it. Jacob was beginning to shake all over and suddenly I was very aware of how close he was to me. My fingers snaked behind me and I found the door handle.

"I went for a walk," I said, slowly, watching his eyes, "with Alice. I went when you weren't here because I know you hate all of them-"

"Of course I do!" He yelled, "Of course I fucking do, Bella! They're bloodsucking corpses! They're murdering leeches! How could you love him, how? How can you stand him? He attacked me! He took hundreds of dollars off us! He broke your heart and he left you for dead, and yet still you run off into his arms because _I'm not good enough_ for Isabella Swan! No-one's good enough for you, Bella, no-one except those men in those books you read, but wake up! I'm _sorry_ I'm not Mr fucking Darcy or whatever his name is, sorry I don't have some stupid name like- like Heathcliffe, sorry I'm just a _mechanic _and not the heir to a large fortune and an English manor. We don't live inside the head of- of Emily- Emily Austen- see, I don't know what her fucking _name_ is! It's the reason they call it fiction! It's not real! I've tried and tried to make you happy, I've tried to be _romantic_, but that kind of fairytale _doesn't exist_!"

The force with which he yelled at me ruffled my hair, and the power in his voice, the way I was suddenly hyper aware of the muscles wrapped around his arms; it all awoke me to the real danger of seriously upsetting Jacob. Every word pressed me closer to the door, and robbed me of any argument. He was still yelling but I had stopped listening. His eyes were wild and his fists were still in the wall. I felt very small.

"You seem to long after this fantasy world where everything is perfect and lovey dovey and where everyone skips around in sunsets and sings love songs. I don't know what Edward Cullen did that was so incredible, but come _on_ Bella, the guy _abandoned_ you in a forest, and he never came back! He doesn't love you! He's just looking to get some, because like every other fucking leech he's _scum_!"

I couldn't move. I stared up at Jacob, felt the heat emanating from him, watched as he gently vibrated. And then I saw it, in his eyes- something strange, inhuman- _animalistic._ Something in his face snapped and he was quivering and trembling and shaking, as if there was a small earthquake going on inside his body. We both knew what was going to happen next, and the anger slipped like soap from Jacob's face and he was suddenly terrified. He drew his hands away from the wall and shoved me back into the bathroom. I crashed through the door, slammed against the sink and slid to the floor. Jacob's face was visible only for a split second, and in that split second his mask of anger was gone and his face was pained and broken. It tore at my heart.

And then he exploded. There was a rush of fur and a howl and he was gone.

It was very quiet.

I sat in the darkness for a long time, winded and hurt and feeling guiltier than I ever had in my life. Everything he had said was true. I was a silly little girl with silly notions of a thing called romance which did not exist. Jacob was normal. Edward was unreal. I had read too many books and watched too many films and based my ideas of love on a relationship that had ended in disaster. I had hurt Jacob and even though I hadn't been out with Edward I knew that had I been given the chance I would not have refused. Edward did not love me. What was love, anyway? I suddenly couldn't remember how it felt. All I knew was that I had felt hurt after Edward had left me, and I felt hurt now that Jacob had gone. Maybe that was all it was. The building up of false hopes, only to watch them crash down around your ears.

Slowly, I picked myself up. It was almost completely dark now. The click of the hallway light sounded harsh and clinical.

Jacob's shredded clothing lay scattered over the floor. I turned toward the front door and pushed it open, letting the cold air hit my face. "Jacob?" I called into the night. "Jake?"

There was no reply.

…

**((review))**

**((and read Mansfield Park for it is truly marvellous :] ))**


	14. see,

**Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,  
And sorry I could not travel both  
And be one traveller, long I stood  
And looked down one as far as I could  
To where it bent in the undergrowth.**

**Then took the other, as just as fair,  
And having perhaps the better claim,  
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;  
Though as for that the passing there  
Had worn them really about the same.**

**And both that morning equally lay  
In leaves no step had trodden black.  
Oh, I kept the first for another day!  
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,  
I doubted if I should ever come back.**

**I shall be telling this with a sigh  
Somewhere ages and ages hence:  
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--  
I took the one less travelled by,  
And that has made all the difference.**

**…**

I slept badly, and when I woke Jacob still wasn't back.

I found myself looking out of the window to check he wasn't coming up the drive, glancing at the clock to work out how long he'd been gone, listening for the sound of the front door opening. I couldn't bring myself to pick up the shredded clothing in the hallway. A heavy lump of guilt had congealed in my stomach, because I knew that this was all my doing. I stared at his work boots as I got dressed. Where was he? _Where was he?_

As I boiled the kettle, I tried to tell myself that he would be fine, because he was a supernatural werewolf with supernatural powers and nothing could hurt him. It helped, but only slightly. Horrible images flitted through my mind, the way horrible images always do in moments of anxiety. I couldn't stop picturing him at the bottom of a river, or curled up in a ball in the middle of the forest, or teetering on the edge of a bridge. I shivered, turned off the kettle and headed for the kitchen door. The tea bag and mug stood dry and alone on the worktop. I glanced out of the window again. Nada.

It didn't help that last night was playing itself over in my head.

You don't know paranoia till it bites you in the arse, is what I was thinking as I grabbed my coat and tied the belt around it. I discovered, to my immense annoyance, that I had moved down a whole belt hole. On top of having accidentally broken the heart of my fiancée, I was getting fatter. I opened the door with a bit of a bang.

I stood on the doorstep, and gazed around the early morning streets. The dewy air that hangs over after a night of rain was cold to breathe in, colder surely than the end of spring was supposed to be. In the house opposite I could see a mum feeding her kids some strange multi coloured cereal and shouting at them. I looked up and down the street, but Jacob was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he was never coming back. Maybe, for what would be the second time in my life, I had been deserted. No; he had to come back at some point, to hear me out. His car was here. I would explain then, and everything would be okay.

But what was going to happen when Charlie and everyone turned up? _Oh, yes, I'm very excited about the wedding; I just don't know exactly where my husband-to-be is._

"Come on, Jacob," I whispered, peering down the end of the road to the broken traffic lights. "Where are you?"

I sat down on the step. Maybe he would turn up in time to leave for work. I ran my motorbike key through my fingers, staring from one side of the street to the other. I couldn't believe that I had managed to upset him this much. It was, I supposed, further proof of my inability to do anything to any degree of success. I rested my elbows on my knees and put my forehead in my hands.

I waited ten long minutes, but he didn't turn up. If I was honest I hadn't really expected him too. But I was going to be late if I didn't leave now. Resigned, but my eyes still glancing behind me every ten seconds, I went round the back and got on my bike. I left Cawdor very slowly.

...

Citizens of earth, brace yourselves. Linda has a cold.

I know it's mean and I know it happens to everyone but I _hate hate hate _the sound of sniffing. A kind of liquidy suction noise and every time she snorted snot back up her nose I winced. And then there was the coughing, and sneezing, and endless moaning.

"I wouldn't come too close, Bella," she said, in her bunged-up voice, "it's infectious-" sneeze "- I got it off my husband and he says everyone at the estate agency's got it too. Here, can I borrow your pen?"

"Sure," I said, as she coughed into her hand then picked up my biro. "Keep it."

"Fanks."

Why am I working at a hospital if this is how I react to sick people?

I stared back out of the window, as I had been doing practically all morning. I didn't know why. It wasn't as if Jacob had ever visited me at work before, but maybe if he'd decided to come back he would come looking for me. But he wasn't there. I kept seeing tall people, people with tanned skin, people with dark hair, hearing people with voices of a similar timbre. There was even a man who had the same shirt. But Jacob didn't come.

"Looking for somb-one?" Linda snivelled.

"What?" I said, not paying attention.

"You've been gazing out of the - the-" sneeze "-window for ten minutes."

"Oh," I said.

"Do you think I have swine flu?" She asked, her voice louder, and I had a feeling she wanted sympathy. I wasn't in the mood.

"If you do you'd better go home," I told her, my eyes following a man who had the same level of stubble as Jacob.

"I have all the symptoms, flu-ish and dizzy-"

The phone rang, and I picked it up sharply. Someone changing an appointment time. I took it all down, then resumed my watch of the window. I was feeling slightly sick- a mixture of guilt and worry. What if Jacob had done something drastic, like- jumped in front of a train, or leapt off a cliff? I shivered, and glanced back to my computer screen. It was a slow day today. I considered playing minesweeper, and then thought better of it.

Minutes ticked by. The phone rang a few more times. A man limped up to the desk, asked me if I could look after his umbrella, them limped off again. A man with a picture of a wolf on his t-shirt came and asked where Dr Greenbank's office was. I wondered exactly what kind of STI he had, to be heading off for Dr Greenbank's little den.

And then, seconds later; "Heads up, Bella, it's your Med Student Stalker," Linda whispered, loudly. "He is so _hot_, I don't know why you don't just-" but she fortunately broke out in a fit of coughing, and so spared me the embarrassment of letting Edward hear whatever crude thing Linda wanted me to do to him.

I stared at my computer screen. I hoped he wasn't going to stay. I was already feeling overly fragile.

He walked over from Linda's side of the desk to mine, and stopped behind my computer. I tried to ignore him. The phone rang and I picked it up. A doctor telling me he couldn't make his shift because he was ill. I noted it down and rang up a replacement. He agreed and I emailed all the necessary people.

Edward was still there.

"Can _I_ help you?" I heard Linda say, and then sniff violently. Another tissue landed in the bin under the desk.

"No, thankyou," he replied, with that aggravatingly velvet voice of his. "I'm waiting for Miss Swan here."

"She's getting married," Linda said hurriedly, apparently keen to bump me off the market asap. I blushed, clicking my computer madly, trying to block her voice out. This woman had a _husband._ "Not going to be a _Miss Swan_ much longer. So you'll have to give up," and she let out a trademark laugh. "She is hot stuff, though, I'll agree," and she nudged me playfully. Her elbow knocked me to the extent that I could no longer pretend I couldn't hear them. Linda was still laughing.

I took a second-long glance up at Edward from beneath my eyelashes. He was staring down at me with a disconcerting intensity. He looked just as angular and perfect as ever. I quickly looked back at my screen.

"Bella?"

"Go away," I muttered.

"No," he replied. "I need to talk to you."

"I'm working."

"It's your lunch break."

"No it isn't."

"Half twelve."

"It's not half twelve yet," I replied, tersely, glancing at the clock in the corner of my screen. "It's-" I inwardly groaned, "twelve twenty nine."

"Alright, then," he said, resting a hand on the desk. "I'll wait."

I sat obstinately in front of my screen, decorating my spreadsheet in yellow and green, until the little '29' changed into a thirty. I stood up. Edward's eyes followed me. I felt under the table for my lunch but then remembered I hadn't made any.

"See you in an hour," Linda said, confusing rising through her voice. Then she sneezed again.

"See you," I mumbled, and took off toward the staffroom. Marley had promised a lesson today. With any luck he would be in the staffroom already and Edward would have no choice but to leave.

He walked beside me the whole way there. I felt as self conscious as I always did around him, but I supposed it was entirely stupid. There was nothing to be embarrassed about. But still, his shadow hung over me for a good two minutes and I spent that whole time trying very hard not to run away.

Marley wasn't there. My heart sank, and I quickly reached out to shut the door behind me but my hand hit his jumper instead. I drew it away quickly. His muscles had felt hard under my palm.

Trying to dismiss him without having to speak to him, I walked toward the keyboard and sat down. I could feel it happening again, the way it always did when I was with Edward; my nerves disintegrating, my mind flipping over.

"We need to talk," he said, behind me.

I shook my head at the floor. "No, we don't," I said.

"Bella."

I drew a breath, and then stood up and headed for the door. I didn't get very far. His hand landed softly on my shoulder and I froze.

"Bella," he said. "Please."

My eyes had closed on his touch, but to my surprise I wasn't dizzy and my mind was working perfectly fine. If he had done this yesterday, or any other day over the last four years, I would have been jelly in his hands. But not today. Today I was too worried and scared about Jacob to be seduced by any weapon in his entire arsenal. "Edward," I said, and my voice was strong. "Let me go."

There was a long pause, but he didn't move his hand. Then; "No."

I opened my eyes, and glared at the wall. "Edward-"

"No."

I tried to pull away, twisting my body around, attempting to wriggle out of his grip. His hand tightened; not so tight that it hurt but tight enough to stop me escaping. And then he clasped my other shoulder and my body swung around, and he was holding me in front of him. I quickly looked down at the floor. I was going to need my wits about me and his face would do me no good.

"Bella?"

I didn't look up. _Think about Jacob,_ I told myself. _Don't listen to him. He's not good for you, and you know it._ But as soon as Jacob's face lit up in my head I knew I was going to cry. As always. I never _stopped _crying, I was like a walking freaking _fountain_, it was so _pathetic-_

There was a long silence, while he did not move and I tried to stop the tears; but Jacob was in my mind and all I could think was that I had hurt him and he still had not come home, and that it was all my fault. Where was he? Did he hate me? He had every right to, but I wanted him back home, so that I could explain. So that we could fix this whole ordeal and I could go on pretending to be madly in love with him, like I was supposed to.

"Are you crying?"

His hands fell from my shoulders and I turned away, angrily wiping my eyes. "No," I said, furiously, clenching my eyes shut. Why was I being so stupid? I felt my face colouring. I wasn't this… sobbing _mess_, not usually, I'd never been one for crying before, it was just-

"Ugh," I said, irritated beyond belief with myself, hypocritically sniffing, pressing my fingers against my eyes. It was very still in the staffroom, lending excellent acoustics to my childish outburst. All I needed was sappy background music and I could be an advert for prozac.

The skin on my back prickled and I knew what he was going to do before he did it. I stepped angrily backwards, out of reach of his hovering hand. A vain attempt at comfort thwarted. I span around to glare him full in the face. I didn't stop to take in anything of his appearance; I just stared straight into his eyes. "Well ,what?" I said, forcefully. "What was it you wanted to say to me? Going to tell me all about the lovely time you've been having? Your postcards must have got lost in the post, not enough stamps on them, I expect-"

"No," he said.

"I do hope you and your distractions are having a marvellous time together." Why was I being so horrible? I wasn't even listening to what he said, I was just ranting away like a miserable old spinster.

"Bella-"

"Or was that not it? Did you just want to carry on this lovely game you've been at for the past few days, following me about, driving me insane, because I'm having _so much fun _-"

"No, Bella, that isn't it-"

"Well go on, then," I sniffed, gesturing at him. "Begin_._ I'm sure whatever it is will be truly fascinating."

I accidentally let myself look at his face in detail. It was pale and blank. My tirade had been, obviously, unexpected. Guilt wriggled through my heart but I crushed it quickly. If Edward hadn't come back, uninvited, into my life, I would know where Jacob was right now.

No. I knew that my situation was entirely my fault, but I had been blaming my own failures on Edward for years, and now didn't seem a good time to stop.

The line of his lips looked so... sad. I just wanted to reach out and tweak them upwards.

"Bella-" he stared down at me, words flicking through his eyes. I was still blinking hard, and I stared blearily at the wall over his shoulder. He didn't speak. My eyes darted to his face and away again. Indecision was still written all over it.

"It seems to me," I said, my voice sounding nothing like me; cool and cold. "That if there is a bad taste in your mouth, you spit it out. You don't constantly swallow it back."

Another pause, then- "Please look at me, Bella."

The request threw me, and without meaning to I obeyed. My eyes locked on his and then I was completely and utterly stuck on them.

"Thankyou," he said, and it sounded genuine.

He gazed down at me for a while longer, then ran his hand through his hair. It glinted bronze and red and gold and mahogany and a hundred million other colours besides. I wondered if an artist had ever attempted his portrait. I pitied them if they had.

Edward heaved a deep sigh. "I can't believe this." He smiled weakly down at me. "I've rehearsed this conversation, in my head, over and over, and I've forgotten it all."

His eyes were darker today. A very deep copper.

"And I've been picturing it for four years, although I admit I never truly thought it was even conceivable-"

His face looked so beautiful when it was moving. The emotions that passed over it were like ripples in silk, smooth and perfect...

"-and now here I am and I don't know what to say."

Would it be possible to pluck a vampire eyebrow? Not that he needed to, but was vampire eyebrow hair like steel or was it removable?

"Bella?"

His lips were hypnotising when they moved.

"You aren't listening to me."

Everything went silent and I blinked. "What?" I said, landing back in the staffroom with a bump. Tears were drying on my face and I absently wiped them away. His face swam clearly back into focus. I couldn't read it. I hadn't heard a word he'd said. "Sorry," I mumbled.

"Don't apologize."

"If you just say it again-"

"It doesn't matter."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

He took another breath, and then there was yet another pause, as, again, he appeared to struggle for words. He opened his mouth, looked from my left eye to my right, closed his mouth again, and was silent. And then he parted his lips once more and was once again on the brink of speech. I waited. I could practically see the words fighting to get over his tongue. I felt irritation descend over me again. What was it he wanted to say? Had I missed something important? He had done it again, I realised, completely messed my mind up. I tried to rearrange my thoughts. How did he _do _it?

"I suppose I should just say it straight."

"Please do," I said, my tone shorter than I'd intended. I hadn't even intended to speak at all. A strange anger seemed to be seething inside me and maybe if I clung to it I could keep hold of my reason. I don't know _why _I was angry; maybe it was the combination of worry about Jacob and guilt about Jacob and all the bitterness I had held toward Edward for the past few days; but I was feeling my patience shortening and disappearing. Marley would be here soon, and if Edward thought he was commandeering my piano lesson to stare bemusedly at my face he had another think coming.

_No he doesn't,_ a little voice said in my head. _You'll let him do whatever he likes._

_Shut up,_ I told the voice. The anger bubbled.

He groaned. "I wish I knew what you were _thinking_. "

I didn't reply, silently thanking God that he didn't. I stared at his eyelids. As long as I didn't look into his eyes I would be fine.

Well. Comparatively.

"Bella-" There was a pause, and I heard him draw a deep breath. Then a flow of words poured from his mouth and splashed their way through my ears. "I know that I don't deserve to say this, and I know it's not enough, not nearly enough, and I don't expect anything after it, and I know nothing can ever fix what I did, ever, and you have every right to walk away, and I know I'm just being typically selfish by making you stay, but I have to say this, or I'll never ever forgive myself." He stopped speaking again and I was very tempted to check what the rest of his face was doing. I didn't. I waited.

"I'm sorry."

I blinked, and my eyes slid back onto his.

"What for?" I asked, nonplussed.

He stared blankly at me for a second, and then his eyebrows rose into an expression of disbelief. "What for?"

I stared back at him. _Don't lose your head,_ I warned myself, as I lost my head, watching his eyes. So beautifully shaped; dark curving lashes, his irises completely round, the whites of his eyes putting my own bloodshot ones to shame. I blushed slightly at the thought.

"You're serious? You don't know?"

I shook my head, feeling the bubbling anger get hotter. How was _I _to know what _he_ was thinking, I wasn't the freaking _mind _reader-

"I'm sorry. For what I said- what I did."

"When?"

"When?" He repeated, incredulously, like it was something obvious. "When?"

"Yes, when," I said, angrily. "I don't have vampire intelligence, I'm afraid, you'll have to let me in on what's going on _inside_ your head-"

"I'm sorry for leaving you and telling you I didn't love you."

I winced and I think he saw. I tried to collect my thoughts, but it was difficult. My mind was teeming with tall trees and wet air and hours spent running and running and shouting until my throat was raw with his name-

"Why are you sorry?" I forced the words out, struggling to collect myself.

He stared at me. His mouth was slightly open. I could see the edges of his teeth; how anything could be so white was utterly beyond me. "Why- why am I sorry?"

"Am I not speaking English?" I said, wiping the forest from my mind.

"I don't understand." His eyes searched mine. "Why aren't you angry with me?"

There was another long hush, and then, at last, I understood.

"Oh," I said, my mouth a perfect circle.

Was I really going to have to explain? I could barely force myself to think about it. I bit my lip. "I'm not angry," I said, looking quickly down at the floor.

"Why aren't you?" He asked, and I could tell he didn't quite believe me. I sighed, trying to arrange my thoughts into rational sentences.

"I'm just not." Silence. "I don't _blame_ you," I told the floor, the omnipresent blush setting my face further aflame. "I would have done the exact same thing if I were you. If you didn't-" I couldn't say it. "I mean, I was- upset, sure, but it wasn't- it- it wasn't your-" I sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "Please don't make me do this," I said, quietly.

"It was my fault."

I looked back to him, surprised. Edward was rubbing his thumb against his index finger, and I watched them for a while, trying to keep up with his words and meanings. Where was this leading? I had already forgiven him, hadn't I? Why was he insisting on laying blame upon his own shoulders?

"Bella, please, please will you look at me? I've waited years to say this and I want to say it to your face."

Something in his tone scared me. It was quiet and nervous and apologetic, and somewhere in the pit of my stomach a tiny hint of doubt stirred. I suddenly felt quite cold.

"No," I told the carpet.

"Bella-"

"I can't-"

And his finger was under my chin and he had lifted up my head.

"It was my fault," he whispered, and his face was very close. I was incapable of doing anything but watching his lips as they formed each word, so smooth and red and so soft, so perfect, "when I hurt you. Because I was lying."

I frowned, the words sinking in. Then his meaning hit me, and the little doubting creature in my stomach grabbed hold of my insides and twisted them around. I blinked heavily. I shook my head. "No, no, you weren't-"

"Because I still loved you." I took a step backwards, my eyes locked on his. A badly healed hole in my stomach began to stretch very thin.

"I still do." I shook my head. _No,_ I thought, _no no no-_

"It tore my heart apart to do it. But I never stopped loving you, Bella. Never."

Silence. I couldn't move.

"I must say I never imagined saying that in a staffroom," he told me, his eyes never leaving mine. I didn't speak. I couldn't.

"Please say something," he said.

And the little hint of doubt surged up a huge fist and clenched my heart inside it. I jerked back to life and backed away ever further, still shaking my head, because- "That's not fair." The hole ripped a tiny bit and I flinched.

He opened his mouth to speak again but I wasn't finished.

"No, Edward, that is _not_ fair-" I took another step backward. "You can't just- waltz in back here and say you're sorry and act like this is some sort of- of twisted game, where you can just- just _lie_ like that and think that that's _okay-_"

"I'm not lying-"

"What, so you're telling the truth?" I asked, derisively. "You've come back, after a very convincing _performance_ and four years _pretend_ absence, to tell me that it was all just some huge _joke_?"

"No-"

"Good, because that is _not _fair!" The anger boiled up and coursed through my body. My voice was high and I sounded ridiculous, but what else could I do but stay here and embarrass myself in front of him? Run? He'd only follow. And I was suddenly furious; I _wanted _to yell at him. "Four years might be a lovely little weekend skiing trip for you, but for me that's a good part of my life, gone. Pfft. Four years that were supposed to be the best of my life but were actually completely _crap_-"

"I'm sorry-"

"-and after all that time you've come back here to play this stupid, horrible game with me, messing up _everything _that I've built for myself, attacking Jacob, taking us to freaking _court_ because of a stupid _spat_ and then stalking me all the way through the day like- like one sided_ hide and seek_-"

"I didn't-"

"-and you have the _nerve_ to stand there and lie through your teeth, to _pretend_ that you still love me and expect me to just fall into your arms and believe you? Well, I'm no genius, but I'm not that _stupid_, Edward! I mean, I was thick enough to believe it in the first place but hell, I was seventeen, so let's not judge me on that-" he opened his mouth to speak again but I steamrollered on "- but you expect me to buy it now? Here? I mean, _look_ at me, I'm not exactly a model of perfection, am I-"

"You-"

"-not exactly vampire competition, and you could have your pick of whoever you wanted, so why are you choosing to stamp on _my_ heart? That is _not fair,_ Edward, it's _not-_"

"I'm sorry!"

"_What_ are you sorry for?" I shouted, and I was so shocked at the volume of my own voice that I stopped. Edward looked distraught, and his left hand was suspended in the air as if he were about to reach out and console me. I breathed heavily, an unexpected tear trickling slowly down my face.

"I'm sorry," he said, his own voice slightly cracked, "for all the lies I told and how I hurt you. And I'm sorry for waiting this long to apologise. And I'm sorry that I ruined... _everything_ for you. But I am not lying, Bella. I am not."

I stared at him. My chest heaved.

He wasn't.

"Yes," I said, "Yes you are."

He had to be.

"No," he said, and he came forward. I watched him as he moved, the way he was obviously walking but seemed to glide, the two long strides that got him where I got in seven bumbling steps. He reached out and took one of my hands in his, interlacing my fingers with his own. I took in a sharp breath. I looked down at our hands, shook my head, tried to disentangle my own. He wouldn't let me. What was he doing? Was this just another dream? Maybe I'd wake up in a moment screaming, with Jacob asking me why I had been mumbling Edward's name in my sleep.

He was standing right in front of me, and much as I hated myself for it, once his face was there Jacob's was gone. "I'm not," Edward whispered. _He was holding my hand._ His fingers were bent over my knuckles. They were cool and long and soft and felt so good next to my skin, so _right..._

"I- I don't believe you," I said, uncertainly, struggling to think coherently. Was he still playing his game? He'd always been a good actor, but I couldn't remember an Edward that was so callous he would toy with me to this extent. I looked from our tangled fingers to his eyes, close enough that I could see the little lines of colour in them: gold and bronze and copper and little strands of black.

"How can I prove it?" He asked me, softly, gazing down at me. I would have felt self conscious but I was too busy thinking nothing.

"You- you can't-"

"I can," he said suddenly, and took another step forward, holding my hand next to his heart. The cashmere of his jumper was rose thorns compared to his skin. My breaths were short and staccato, but when he reached out a finger and caught a tear halfway down my cheek they stopped altogether. He was so close, and he was bending down, his head just above mine. I moved my face upwards slightly to see him. My fingers were limp in his hand and my stomach was clenched in apprehension. I felt myself shaking slightly. He was looking into my eyes and his breath was on my face. Soft and sweet. I inhaled it and my brain fuzzed over. He rested his free hand on the side of my face, his fingers following the curve of my head. I took a sharp breath in and the air around me was full of his smell, that particular, singular scent which was so familiar and so welcome. He was going to do it. He really was, he was really going to- my fingers suddenly tightened around his hand and I closed my eyes- the surface of my face tingled and I could sense him a hairs breadth away; his nose touched the tip of mine, his forehead rested against my own, his cool breath fanning over my face, and he was so close-

I turned my head away.

I felt dizzy. My hand wilted inside his again. He was still clutching my fingers tight as ever, and I could hear his breath, soft and slow, as he leant over my shoulder.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I- I can't."

My eyes burned and his fingers tightened around my hand. My own were trembling.

"Why?" He said, and the way he said it split my heart in two. It was like he was about to cry himself; a shaky, broken question.

"I- "

"I would never leave you, not again."

How was it that he couldn't read my mind and yet he could still guess what was going on inside it?

Neither of us were looking at the other. His hand was shaking slightly now. I tried to hold my own fingers still.

"I only left," he said, in his soft, deep voice, "because it wasn't _safe_ for you, Bella, you saw Jasper, I couldn't risk- I know, I know I was _stupid_, and I know that I should never have made that decision for you, but at the time- I thought it was the best way. The only way." A silence. "I loved you too much to put you in danger like that. I had to leave." His thumb glanced over the back of my palm. "I shouldn't have lied." Still I couldn't speak. My throat was burning. "But you would never have let me go."

"No," I said, slowly, shaking my head. "No, I wouldn't." There was yet more silence. I lifted up my free hand and wiped my cheeks.

"I was wrong."

I nodded, biting my lip hard.

"I'm sorry."

Tears blossomed in my eyes and cascaded down my face, as I said what I think we both knew was coming.

"It's too late."

"No-"

"I'm getting _married_!"

"You don't have to-"

"Yes, I do!" I said, and I pulled my hand from his. "You don't understand-"

"He's just a _dog, _Bella!"

"He is not."

There was a very long silence, and slowly, laboriously, I turned my face to his.

"Don't," I said, slowly and clearly, "talk about Jacob like that. Don't. Because he has _always_ been there for me. When you weren't, he was." Edward swallowed heavily. His Adam's apple bobbed. "And I do love him, and he loves me, and I can't leave him. I can't," my voice caught slightly as I remembered last night, and thought of the doubt that stood behind my words. I paused and waited for the lump in my throat to shrink. "Because I can't hurt him like you hurt me, Edward. I can't do that to him." Even though I already had. I looked up at Edward, silently begging him to see, to understand. But Edward seemed incapable of doing anything but look at me. "Don't you see?"

His lips parted slightly, oh so slightly, and I think he tried to say something; they moved, but no sound came out. I stared up at him, and his speechlessness infected me. We just stood and looked at each other as minutes ticked by. I tried to absorb every inch of his face, the colour of each stand of hair, the faultless line of his jaw. My eyes were shivering with tears.

And then, suddenly, he grabbed both my hands in his and fell to his knees. I stared at him in horror, as he squeezed my hands and pierced me through with his eyes. Then he began to speak, and his words sent bullets through my heart. "When I left," his voice was quick and desperate, "I spent my days and my nights alone, thinking of nothing but you, hearing nothing but your voice, for days and weeks and months and years." I could feel sobs rising in my throat. I shook my head at him, tried to pull my hands away, but he tightened his grip around them and pulled them closer against his chest. "Every time I saw something beautiful I would compare it to you. Every time I heard something funny or interesting I wanted to tell you, every time I sat down at the piano I found I'd forgotten every tune except the one I wrote for you. I couldn't _be_ any more, not without you there." He looked strangely small from where I was stood, bent down as he was. I tried very hard not to cry, but I was growing tired of trying to be tough. I wanted to kneel down next to him and tell him it was all going to be okay, not to be sad, that we could just pick up where we left off. If only I could.

"And then we came here and I did something stupid, again, and I'm sorry. But when I saw you-" he closed his eyes momentarily, and when he opened them again they were gleaming with some unfathomable emotion. "I can't describe it- and then I had to sit and listen to what that- that- to what Jacob was saying, it was like that _terrible_ forest, all over again. And then you were _here _and I couldn't help it, I couldn't get enough of you. You are more beautiful than you ever were in my head."

I shook my head, and tried to pull my hands away, a lump burning the sides of my throat and blocking speech. He pressed his fingers into mine, gazing up at me with such intensity that it hurt. I curled my fingers around his.

"Please stand up," I said, my words broken into silence with tears. "Please-"

"Bella, please, please, believe me when I say that I would never, _ever_, do wrong by you, ever ever again- whatever you wanted, I'd do it, I truly would, whatever it was. If there was a- a blade of grass you wanted-"

"Edward-" I croaked, softly closing my eyes so that I wouldn't have to watch him. He was crumbling my resolve.

"-I would get it for you. I would spend every minute of the rest of forever making sure you were always happy and making sure you knew that you were the _only_ thing in the whole world that I cared about, the _only_ thing-"

"Stop it," I said, choking on the words.

"I would take you everywhere you wanted to go. We could go to India and Australia and- and France, Paris, if you wanted-"

"Edward-"

"-just you and me, and if Rosalie ever said anything to you that was even mildly rude I would punch her in the face-"

A feeble laugh slipped out of my mouth and as I laughed the tears fell thick and fast. I tried to pull my hands away but he still wouldn't let me go.

"- and I would never, ever stop trying to make it up to you. You've got to understand, Bella, that I have gone four years wishing I could undo what I did, four years repenting and hating myself and struggling with myself, because I thought, I truly thought that you were safe and happy and that, by now, you would have moved on. But now I have you, here, again-" I shook my head, and I was quivering fit to explode, "I cannot let you go again, I can't-"

"Edward, please _stop_," I begged, but I couldn't understand my words because they were being drowned in tears. "You're making this too hard-"

"Good!" he said, his voice loud and desperate. "Good! Bella, listen to me-" his eyes were so wide that they seemed in danger of falling out of their sockets. He ran his fingers over my hands and I shivered. "-you can't leave me, I can't go through that again, and neither can you, if I know you at all-"

"No," I said, weakly, trying to focus in on his eyes but struggling to see past the bleary mass of tears. "No, no, no, and that's why I _can't_-"

"I love you," he said, clear and low. "I can't live without you, I can't do it-"

"You don't have a choice!" I sobbed, and tried to step backwards, craning my neck upward toward the ceiling in an attempt to stem the tears.

"He's not _safe_ for you, Bella, that werewolf-"

"And you are?"

"Tell me you don't love me, Bella," he said, suddenly on his feet and inches from my face. "Tell me that, if it's true, and I'll leave you alone forever." He reached up both his hands and rested them on my cheeks. They were soft and cool.

I opened my mouth to say it; anything to get him to stop. But the words wouldn't come. I couldn't say them.

"Say it!" He told me, bending down slightly so that our eyes were level.

"I don't- " I began, but couldn't continue.

"If you really want me to go-"

"I do!"

"Then _say it,_" he breathed, his eyes wide. I shook my head. "Do you love me, Bella?"

I tried to say no, I opened my mouth and tried to tell myself to say it, but the word wouldn't leave my lips. Slowly, crying violently, I nodded.

And he moved in as if to kiss me again. I saw him coming and I desperately, urgently wanted to let him, but I couldn't. I turned my head away again. I stepped back, out of his hands, and turned my back to him.

"Please go, Edward-"

"No." It was the same thing we had said not ten minutes ago, but this time his reply was more confident, louder, clearer. "No, I will not."

"Please!"

"No."

I let out a sob-wrenched cry of exasperation, and span around to face him. "You say you love me, you say that you'll do whatever I want you to, and yet the first, and only thing I ask of you, _you won't do_!" I sounded crazed. "You act like you'll do anything to win me back, but so far you've fought with Jacob, you've put me even deeper in debt than I already am, you've dragged me through this horrible, horrible conversation where you've finally admitted that everything I've built the last four years of my life on was a _lie_, and now, when I've clearly said _no_, you still won't let me alone! I've _had enough_!" I yelled. "I can't do this! Think about what you're asking me!"

"I'm asking you to do what we both want, what we both have always wanted-"

"Of course I want it," my voice was low, and shaking. "But you said it yourself. I couldn't go through it, what you did to me, I couldn't do it again-"

"You wouldn't have to!"

"You don't understand!" I shouted at him, tears blooming anew. "You don't understand how hard it was-"

"Don't I?" He replied, and his voice was louder too. "Don't I understand it? That unbearable feeling that half of you is missing, that constant ache, the way that whenever I shut my eyes I saw your face, the way I longed for sleep, for any way to escape, and all the while I could do nothing but hate myself for what I did to you, and long that I could go back and just do it differently, because even if it wasn't safe at least if we were both dead we could be together-"

"Alright!" I yelled, "Stop, stop stop-"

"It hurts, Bella, you know it does, but we can stop it, right now, all you have to do is give in-"

"Jacob-"

"You don't love him!"

I couldn't reply. Edward was breathing heavily as me, now, and his eyes were just a silent plea.

I couldn't do this. I couldn't. Not after all this time. Not after all that pain. I couldn't set myself up to be hurt again. And I couldn't hurt Jacob more than I already had. I couldn't.

"Do you not think," I said, slowly, trying to separate my mouth from my body so I could say the words, "you've done enough?" I breathed slowly in and out but he did not breathe at all. "Do you not think that maybe now, finally, would be the time where maybe you could listen to what I want instead of what _you_ think I _should_ want, and just please, please, please, _go_."

Silence. I gasped in some ugly sounding breaths. Edward stood in front of me, and I didn't want to look at his face. I stared at the sky through the window behind him. It was raining. Drops pattered onto the window and slid down the glass.

He stood very very still for a long time, then slowly, almost stumbling, he moved towards the door. There were no footsteps, of course, but I heard the door creak open. I waited for the soft _knock_ as it would shut behind him. It didn't come.

"Bella?" his voice was small. "Could you just- just do one thing for me?"

I didn't respond. He waited for a moment, then finished his request.

"Please- please could you just eat something? You never eat."

I waited for the knock.

"Bella?"

The rain dribbled ever faster down the pane.

_Knock._

**…**

**((****Having the appearance of godliness, but denying its power. Avoid such people.))**


	15. And

**The hand that signed the paper felled a city;  
Five sovereign fingers taxed the breath,  
Doubled the globe of dead and halved a country;  
These five kings did a king to death.**

**The five kings count the dead but do not soften  
The crusted wound nor pat the brow;  
A hand rules pity as a hand rules heaven;  
Hands have no tears to flow.**

**…**

Someone cut my fuse. My mind hummed and went black.

I stared at the rain outside the window. It was falling in droves now, slamming against the window pane, one drop merging into another, the sharp taps of the water continuous against the glass. I felt very cold, like someone had blown icy air down my throat. My fingers were trembling. The rain fell and fell, ceaseless and grey, to the ground below the window, where it would pile up and run along, down drains and through pipes and into the sea, and then would rise up into the sky and then fall again. Stuck in the same cycle over and over. Patter patter patter against the window.

The door behind me opened and the noise of the hospital rushed through the door; so loud compared with the horrified quiet the room had held up until now. I was caught unawares, but I didn't jump. A horrible, awfully familiar numbness was seeping through me. I shivered again.

Marley strode in, his voice ringing clear in the silence, chattering happily away. "Sorry, Bella, I just got in, I have the afternoon shift today and the buses weren't running on time because of the rain. There's flooding down in the south end of town; but of course you live in Cawdor so that won't bother you…" there was a rustle of paper as he got out the sheet music, the click of the keyboard being switched on, and then the low electrical buzz of the machinery. "They say this isn't even the worst of it; apparently a huge storm is heading this way tomorrow. My wife said it was something to do with cloud pressure and warm air currents, but that means nothing at all to me," he laughed.

I breathed slowly, in and out, in and out. His words wafted through my ears and I tried to compose myself. "So everyone here is going ballistic trying to make sure that we have enough supplies to get us through if something really bad does hit… Bella?"

I still hadn't moved. I couldn't just stand still; I was going to have to talk to him. I closed my eyes and tried to make the corners of my mouth turn up. It didn't work. I opened my mouth but no sound came out.

"You know, my youngest son told me that his friend had said that rain was God weeing through a sieve."

I couldn't laugh. My mind was blank and empty; I was barely able to recognise the joke. The water slammed against the window harder than ever. The light outside was dark. It seemed almost like evening.

"Bella, are you alright?"

I tried to take a deep breath but my throat was clogged. I balled up my fists and dug my nails into my skin, hard; but still I couldn't feel anything. I would have been freaked out, but my mind didn't seem to be able to process any sort of emotion at all. I squeezed my fists tighter. Nothing.

"Bella?"

I counted to three in my head, trying to move my mouth into a socially acceptable expression. I knew at the moment it wore a mask of dead horror. I set my lips, and with great effort managed to move them.

"Bella?"

I froze my face into position, and turned quickly before my smile slipped. "Yes," I said, in a voice that sounded odd and not my own, "I'm fine."

But I wasn't fine. I wasn't _anything_. Everything inside of me had locked down. I couldn't feel anything at all.

…

I tried again at the desk. I pressed my nails into my palm again, but a slight, unattached sting was all I could feel. I pressed harder, but still nothing. I raised my eyes and stared out of the front windows at the rain. I tried to think, but my mind was blank. I tried to look ahead to the wedding rehearsal, but it was blocked; I even tried to look back at what I knew had happened in the staff room. Nothing. I couldn't do it. My mind wouldn't let me. I tried to see Edward's face-

My thoughts cut off and I winced. The hole, I realised, was wide open. I could feel the metaphorical cannonball shooting through my chest, which I supposed was good in the sense that I could feel something. My emotions were dead everywhere except, it seemed, where Edward-

The cannonball came and went and all was numb within me once more.

"Bella?" Linda, next to me, said sharply. "Bella, you've gone grey."

"What?" I said, not caring, not knowing what she had said.

She sniffed. "You're grey."

"I'm what?"

Sneeze. "Grey."

I could see her mouth moving and could hear the words, but my brain wouldn't absorb them. I struggled for a moment to remember what she had said. "Green?"

"Grey."

"Oh."

I turned back to my computer screen, and started to fill out an order form.

"Do you feel sick?" Sniff.

"What?"

"Do you feel sick?"

"Sick?"

"Yes! Are you sick?"

"Sick? I don't think so."

"You look sick."

"I do?"

She nodded. "Maybe you've caught it off me."

"What?" The end of her nose was red and wet.

"Are you listening?"

I stared at her. "I look grey?" I tried, hoping this was right.

"Yes!"

I turned back to the screen, and continued with the form. Linda was out of my head as quickly as she had entered it. I put my hand around my mouse and clicked open a timetable, then moved my hand to the keyboard to type new values into it. A strange mark on the mouse hooked the corner of my eye and pulled it back; a smear of red ran along the surface. I looked down at my hand. A weak trickle of blood was oozing across my skin, coming from a crescent shaped mark in the middle of my palm. I stared at it; a faint horror crept through my brain, but was gone before I could recognize what it was. I wiped my hand on my trousers.

Desperately, I tried to worry about Jacob, but I couldn't do it. I couldn't think or feel or hear and I had barely noticed when I'd caused myself to bleed. Something had gone badly wrong inside me. I tried to bring Edward's face into my head. Bang. The cannonball went through me again. I winced.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"What?"

"Are you okay?"

"Okay?"

"Bella, you're freaking me out."

"What?"

Silence.

"Nothing. Don't worry. Do you want a paracetamol?"

"What?"

There was no more conversation after that. The rain pounded ever harder against the window, and sucked all the colours out of the world as it fell. Everything around me was grey and I was grey and the blood had dried grey in my jeans. I stared at it, then out the window, then at my screen, then at my palm. There was a streak of thin, blotchy brown across my skin. I wiped it away. What was happening to me?

…

My home was small and wet, and grey, and the rain was still falling. I could see it dribbling off the motorbike dashboard in tiny rivulets. I parked around the back and switched off the engine. For a while I sat and listened to the patter of rain on my helmet, and then pulled it from my head and got off my bike.

There were puddles on the ground that splashed up onto my jeans as I hopped onto the back doorstep. I unlocked the door, stepped inside, and shut it behind me. The noise of the rain was suddenly cut off, to be replaced with the silence of my home.

I stood in the kitchen, not sure what to do next. My hair was slightly wet and the ends of it stuck to my neck. The fridge was letting out a low, level hum behind me.

A voice came from the kitchen doorway.

"Bella?"

I frowned.

Turning around, my gaze fell on a figure in the kitchen doorway. There Jacob was stood, his cheeks dark and his hair much wetter than mine, hanging in long dark strands around his face. His eyes were slightly red, and he seemed nervous. I stared at him, trying to feel the relief that I knew I _should_ be feeling.

I noticed suddenly how much smaller he looked, compared to how he had last night. His shoulders were hunched slightly, his face overcast.

I became aware that my eyes were wide, without my consciously making them so. It was an automatic physical reaction that I could not control, something that my body had done entirely independently. I couldn't feel surprised or relieved or happy, or anything. It was a struggle even to think of words to say.

Jacob looked down at me, his cheeks growing deeper and darker with every second. His fingers were twisting through each other. I looked him up and down; he was fully clothed, but sodden.

He took a breath. My eyes locked on his face. "Maybe I was… a bit unfair last night," he said, hesitantly, watching me uncertainly.

I found my legs. I tripped my way across the kitchen toward him, and suddenly I had my arms around his neck, my face pressed against his chest. I felt his body tense; and then relax. He laughed and hugged me tight against him, and his arms were welcome and warm around my waist. He had always been there to make me feel better. The first time Edward had left me I only had to spend two minutes with Jacob to feel much better, so maybe if I clung tight enough the horrible cloying numbness would go away. I desperately wanted to be in control again, no matter what pain awaited me when my body did wake up. I buried my head in his shirt.

I waited.

Nothing seemed to be changing.

"Well, not just a bit unfair," he said, his tone slightly cheerier at this show of affection. "I was a huge dick, and I'm really sorry. I know I should have listened. Once I'd run off all I wanted to do was to come back. And when I thought about it, I did jump to conclusions a bit." He paused, thinking. "Oh… and I'm really sorry about throwing you into the bathroom, but I had to get you out of the way… I was really upset, y'know, and it was kind of hard to control… oh, and I'm also sorry for exploding like that _again_, but I guess the werewolf thing is going to take a while to fade, just like you said." He stopped, and waited. Maybe he was expecting me to speak. But I couldn't; and even if I could, what response could I give to such an apology? "And I'm sorry for going all bonkers on you, and saying all that stuff, because I didn't mean it. Well, not really." He paused again. "Bella?"

I tried again to speak. Jacob's words seemed to be going through my head okay, but I was still in lockdown. I scrunched my fingers in his shirt even tighter, waiting for the deadness to lift from me; but still it would not go. But maybe this was a good thing; I knew I didn't _want_ to think about what had happened with Edward-

"Bella?" Jacob said, alarmed, as I flinched. The canon shot through me once again. "Bells, Are you okay?"

I tried to speak, and suddenly words appeared on my lips; the same words I had spoken to Marley earlier today, accompanied by the same manic smile. "I'm fine."

Jacob pushed my body away and looked down at me, his brows furrowed. I stared back up at him.

"You're grey, Bells."

"I'm fine."

"Your fingers are shaking."

"I'm fine."

"You aren't."

"I'm fine."

He took my hands and held them up to my face. They looked so small and pale in his. Sure enough, they were traitorously trembling. I turned my face up to his and tried again. "I'm fine."

He frowned. "Are you nervous? I know I sure am. But you get to see Charlie, right?" He smiled at me, but when I still didn't reply it slipped slightly. "Bella? You're just nervous about tonight, right, there's nothing wrong?"

I stared up at him. I tried to speak; what I really wanted was to tell him what was wrong with me, but I couldn't; he was still Jake and I knew that I never told him anything that would upset him. And anyway, the words were stuck in my throat. "I don't know," I choked out. That was true enough, I supposed. My voice sounded scared.

Jacob laughed. "You don't know?" He pulled me against his chest and patted my head. "You'll be fine. We've got an hour, though, till it starts; why don't you have a shower?"

I must stink. He was being so good about it. If only I could feel grateful.

He smiled down at me, and with a supreme effort I nodded. He grinned and let me go, striding into the kitchen and turning on the tap. "I'm going to make some coffee." He spoke with the air of someone declaring they were about to take up some obscure, exotic and deeply impressive hobby. I stood alone in the doorway, listening as he filled the kettle and plugged it in.

I stared at the hallway wall, my feet on the metal strip that came between the kitchen lino and the hallway carpet.

I tried to analyse everything. Jacob was home. I knew this was good. But I could not feel anything or think anything or do anything much. This, I was certain, was not so good. And, for the second time in my life, although admittedly this time of my own doing, Edward Cullen-

I actually gasped out. I closed my eyes and clasped my chest.

Something was badly wrong with me.

...

"Bella."

Charlie wrapped his arms around my shoulders and squeezed me. I gingerly lifted my arms and patted his back. "Hey," I said, quietly.

"You look taller," he remarked, saying nothing more, his usual loquacious self. I smiled back. He just looked smaller.

"The priest guy was just telling me what to do," Charlie said, when I didn't make any further remark. He glanced up the aisle, then back at me. "It seems I just have to walk up the middle bit and hand you over."

I nodded. Charlie gazed at me for a second, then asked; "Are you okay, Bella? You look…" his brown eyes searched my face. "Grey."

"I'm fine." My mouth churned out the words through smiling lips.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm fine," I said again.

Charlie stared at me for a few more seconds before Billy, his wheelchair stuck in the doorway, called him over. I stared at his retreating back. Every time I saw Charlie he seemed to get older. Surely this small, greying, slightly fattening man was not my father? Maybe it was just because he wasn't wearing his uniform; police outfits could hide the years. Give any man a gun and shined boots and he looks ten years younger, right?

But still… I couldn't help but see a shadow of the old man Charlie was going to become. It hung in the corners of his eyes. Cobwebs which needed dusting away.

"Bells-" Jacob grabbed my shoulders from behind and swung me around. "C'mon, up front, he wants to run through it with us."

"What?"

"The priest guy."

"What?"

"You need to come up and at least prove that one of us is faintly religious, he's already pulled a stinker because I asked him what a Corinthians was. And," he continued, leaning closer and whispering, "I think he may also have heard me referring to eleven apostles, which I've been told is wrong." He grinned, and took my hand.

"What?"

He laughed and shook his head, pulling me behind him. I followed, without the energy or the interest to protest.

The Church was small and pale, with grubby, horridly modern stained glass windows probably done by a local artist whose locality was their only useful attribute; I couldn't help but wonder, as Jacob pulled me through a pew and up a carpeted step, how someone could possibly make Jesus Christ look so much like a cyborg.

I had to admit, however, that the building had a cosy air about it. It was small and warm and had that distinctly Churchy smell, of dust and candles and paper. The small effigy of the Virgin Mary, which stood on a small table next to an open Bible, seemed almost to smile at me.

"Bella? Bells?" Someone shook my arm. I looked away from the statuette and turned to Jacob. His eyebrows were raised. "Bella, c'mon, you've got to listen. You chose the Bible passages, right?"

"Yes," I said.

Jacob stared at me. "Well?"

I tried to remember. The Priest, a tall, elderly looking man with white hair and a small straight moustache of the same colour, was looking at me expectantly through crinkled, watery eyes. He smiled. "Which did you pick?" His voice was gentle, and he emphasized the last letters of each word. Whi_ch_ di_d_ you pi_ck?_.

I stared at him. I vaguely remembered pouring over my Grandma's Old Testament one night, and finding many I had liked… but which had they been?

"Bella?" Jacob's voice grew impatient. "Come on! What's up with you today?"

I looked from him, to the Priest, then back at Jacob. "I-" I began, straining my memory, "I can't remember."

Jacob stared incredulously at me. "Yes you can! You wrote it down! You spent hours on it! You practically read the whole freaking Book!"

The Priest looked affronted at Jacob's careless referral to the Bible but I couldn't feel embarrassed. "I'm sorry," I said.

"What is it, Bella, are you ill or what?" Jacob asked, staring down at me with concern that I could not help but notice was tinged with annoyance. I looked back up at him, and then looked away.

"Yes. I'm ill." I was lying, but it seemed the easiest way out. "I think," I began, looking at the red carpet below my feet. The pile felt thick and soft around my trainer. "I think we should go home."

Jacob turned despairing eyes at me. "We'll call you," he told the Priest.

...

"Are you cold?" Jacob asked, pulling his jumper off and tightening his sweats.

"No," I replied, shivering. Jacob got into bed and sighed. He put his arms behind his head and stared up at the ceiling, his lips pursed and his eyes closed. His irritation had faded as soon as we had got home; he had delighted in offering me numerous paracetamol and ibuprofens and herbal teas and even made me a disgustingly sweet hot chocolate. I had spent the whole evening staring out the kitchen window as he had told me everything that we had missed at La Push, frequently talking about people I did not know and places I had never been to as if they were a matter of utmost importance to me.

But now the night was well upon us. The curtains had only been partly drawn, so a sliver of moonlight cut across the room like a blade. It shot across Jacob's face with a pale silver glow. Little black shadows occasionally glanced across the light and I could hear the patter of their physical counterparts outside.

Jacob sighed contentedly. "Y'know, it seemed more real today that it ever has before," he said, grinning slightly. "I mean, it was a bummer and all, your being ill, but just being in that Church and seeing that old bishop guy-"

"Priest," I said, quietly.

Jacob laughed. "Okay, whatever; and talking to your Dad and seeing Embry and Leah… this whole wedding has been one of those things that doesn't seem quite real, but now suddenly it's happening and it's all so… I don't know," he rolled over and, resting his head on his hand, smiled down at me. "I'm just so happy."

He was, too. I could see it in his eyes; there was a brightness in them which there had not been previously, a sort of glow. His hair did not hang around his face as it had done in the kitchen earlier; it seemed bouncier and healthier. He had obviously quickly forgotten our fight. I wondered if I still cared about what he had said yesterday. I probably did.

"Anyway, you'd better sleep if you're going to be well, seeing at it's only six days away!" he giggled in a very un-Jacob like way. He threw himself on his back and shut his eyes, a smile still on his lips. Within a few minutes he was gently snoring.

I sneezed.

Cursing Linda, I shifted so my back was to Jacob and I was facing the wall. I reached out and touched the wallpaper; it was bumpy. I pressed it in and the paint cracked under my finger.

I must have lain there for hours before the numbness began to lift.

It was gradual at first. I began to notice I was hungry, but when I sat up with the intent of going to the fridge all the blood rushed to my head and the room span. I lay back down, eyes closed. And then the switch which had been flicked off in the staffroom was flicked back on, and suddenly I could feel _everything._

My mind buzzed and woke up, and I pressed my eyes tight shut. The guilt and fear and regret and hopelessness that had merely tinged my mind for the past few hours were suddenly sharpened and acute. My fists curled in my sheet as the shock of it; why had I longed for this? Numbness was far preferable! I rolled over and pressed my face into the mattress, screwing up my features and clutching the sheet as tight as I could. I held my lips tight closed. I didn't want to wake Jacob.

The events of the day were running through again in my head. All over again, Edward was begging for forgiveness, for a second chance, and again I was refusing to give it. Again I could see the pain in his face. Guilt shot through me like an arrow, stuck to the front of the cannon which blasted through me every time my mind presented his face, or spoke his name. How could I have hurt him like that? I knew how it felt to be rejected, so how, how could I have done it to Edward? How?

I curled up and clutched my pillow to my face so Jacob wouldn't hear me. Why had I said no? For Jacob? Jacob was a candle next to the _sun_ when compared to Edward! Jacob wasn't in love with _me_, he was in love with the person I pretended to be. How could I have condemned myself to this life forever when just a few hours ago I had been offered a way out? I remembered how Edward's hands felt on mine. I focused on how smooth and soft they had felt, how his fingers had clenched my hand. I remembered his breath on my face. The mere memory was worth the pain.

But only just.

I could hear my pulse in my ears. I was shivering, even though Jacob's presence made the bed almost unbearably warm. I couldn't turn it off; over and over again the argument ran through my head, each repetition showing me where I could have changed the course of everything, showing where I could have prevented hurting Edward further than I already had. I desperately tried to reach for the cool numbness, just so I could escape this terrible loop; but it would not come. And again Edward was telling me he loved me. Again I was telling him to leave. Again and again and again. His silken, pained voice echoed around the hallways of my mind, repeating his words as they bounced off the walls.

I shied away from the oppressive thought that lurked at the back of my mind. This time Edward was well and truly not coming back. This time I knew, for absolute certain, that I would never see him again. I bit my lip and held back a cry. _Never._

I felt sick. I rolled back onto my back and breathed steadily through my pillow, the wetness of my breath mingling with the tears already saturated there. My heart felt heavy and my stomach was churning. I glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It was three-thirty in the morning. The sliver of moonlight had disappeared; the clouds must have closed in.

I tried to wipe his face from my head but it was stuck there. I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling but his grief-stricken expression coated the paint. I sat up and pressed my eyes against my knees. _Go away,_ I begged him. _Leave me alone_. But still his eyes pierced my brain and still guilt coursed through me like a poison. I was a cruel person, and I had always known it, but I did not know I could go this far. It did not matter that the shards of my heart littered my body. What mattered was that I had sent an axe-hammer through his.

The nausea would not fade and I got to the window just in time, stumbling out of the bed with the sheets around my knees. I wrenched the window open and hurled onto the gravel.

Jacob groaned behind me and I leaned out of the sill, the cool night air gentle on my face. It was raining less now and only a few drops landed on my cheek, cold and fresh. I closed my eyes and breathed in and out, while I heard Jacob moving behind me.

"Mmm… Bella?"

I didn't answer.

"S'cold… shit, Bella, what're you doing at the window?" He yawned. "Can I have the sheet back?"

Silently, I fixed a smile on my face and picked the sheet up from the floor. I handed it back to him and he gave me a sleepy smile. He was dead to the world again in a matter of seconds.

I stared down at him. Everything was so simple to Jacob. He had moved on from our argument as though it had been nothing. His face looked so calm and happy while he slept. It was difficult to be angry at him. I didn't even have a right to be angry; the fault was all mine. It always was.

I spat the taste of vomit out the window and sank to the floor below it, closing my eyes and accepting the re-runs as they came. Rain occasionally flicked through from outside and landed in my hair, or dribbled behind my ear and down my neck. The bursts of pain came with every thought of Edward, the overwhelming guilt clung to every part of my body. By the time morning broke my face was stinging with tears.

Jacob woke about half seven and I stood up quickly before he could ask me why I was sat on the floor. He sat up, stretched and yawned, while I quickly wiped my face with the back of my hand. "Morning," he said, the word stretched as wide as his mouth. "Another day, huh, Bells?"

"Yes," I said, glancing out of the open window. Clouds hung low and suggestive and the air which seeped through was heavy and wet. My body was aching slightly due to the uncomfortable sitting position I had been since early morning, and I stretched my back slightly. There was no relief from the feelings of the night, but as soon as the mask of darkness had gone I needed to create my own façade. I kept my face carefully blank.

"I'm thinking bagels and orange juice," Jacob said, swinging his legs over the bed and standing up. He stretched his arms above his head and rubbed his eyes. "You look pale as ever, Bella, are you still feeling sick?"

I shrugged.

"Come here," he said, opening his arms. I groaned inwardly, and the Edward in my mind growled. I winced, but Jacob was yawning again and didn't see. I let Jacob hug me and then slowly detached myself. He tried to kiss me but I put up my hand.

"Morning breath," I said. And vomit breath.

He smiled. "Kay. You using the shower?"

"Yes," I said.

"Well, I'm gonna get to toasting. Bagel?"

_Please eat something. You never eat._

The voice reverberated around my head. I closed my eyes and tried to keep still. "Yes," I said, quietly.

"Cool," Jacob said, and left the bedroom. The kitchen door opened and shut, and the sound of his tuneless humming came through the thin walls of our home.

_Cool._ I pressed my fingers to my eyes and held my breath. _Welcome to the rest of your life, _I told myself. _Stop moping. You did this to yourself. _

**...**

**((next chapter is the big one))**


	16. there

**Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth  
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;  
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth  
Of sun-split clouds - and done a hundred things  
You have not dreamed of - wheeled and soared and swung  
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there  
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung  
My eager craft through footless halls of air.  
Up, up the long delirious, burning blue,  
I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace  
Where never lark, or even eagle flew -  
And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod  
The high untresspassed sanctity of space,  
Put out my hand and touched the face of God.**

**((this is it))**

…

"Hey Dad."

"Bella? Hey honey! Are you not at work?"

I pulled my knees up to my chest and ran my fingers along the lino. The kitchen floor was cold but the house was warm; I had given up completely on saving money and turned the heating on full blast, despite the fact that it was nearly summer.

"No," I replied.

"Still sick, then?"

"A bit," I said, thinking back to last night.

"You'll be okay for Sunday, though?"

I didn't reply for a while. "Yes," I said, finally. "I'll be okay by then." The shards of my heart froze over and plummeted to my feet. "I'll be fine by Sunday."

"You sound a bit…" Pause. "Down."

"I'm tired."

"Do you want me to come over?" He asked. My eyebrows shot up.

"No!" I said hurriedly, then realising I had sounded a bit rude, said again, calmer, "No, Dad. I'll be okay." There was a silence. "The house is a mess."

"I find that hard to believe. I know how tidy you are."

"Jacob," I said.

"Oh."

There was a long silence. I continued to run my hands along the floor, feeling the indents and rises. When I turned my palm around I saw it was covered in grey dust.

"So, Bella," Charlie said, slowly, "was there any particular reason you rang?"

"I don't know," I said, scraping my finger along the floor and flicking the dust out from under my nail. "Just to talk."

"Well, honey..." there was a guilty pause. "Renée asked me if I could pick her up from the train and I said yes, and I should really be setting off."

"Okay," I said, quietly.

"I'm sorry. I'll see you soon, though, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, bye, honey. Love you."

"You too, Dad. Bye."

There was a pause, and I listened to him breathe in and out, his breath much faster and heavier than it should be; and then three beeps and a low whine. I set the receiver on the floor and stared at the fridge.

I hadn't gone to work. I hadn't even called in. Linda had rung me half an hour ago and sneezed down the phone. I'd told her I was ill.

I closed my eyes and leaned against the faux-wood of the cupboard. Edward's face was imprinted on the underside of my eyelids and my chest jerked backwards as the cannon burnt through me again; the cupboard door rattled. But the pain was boring me now. I was growing used to it. What I couldn't become accustomed to was the gnawing feelings of guilt, and regret. And that looming sense of eternal loneliness.

No. I couldn't get used to those.

I should get up and mop the floor. Everyone was coming over tomorrow and I needed to get the house clean. But I couldn't get myself to stand up. I could barely motivate myself to move. I'd been sitting here near on two hours and all I'd done was go to the bathroom and ring Charlie.

My heart beat was slow and heavy, and my brows constantly creased. I couldn't stop myself recounting everything I'd ever said, every action I'd ever taken, every thought I'd ever had, that could have changed everything. If I'd seen through Edward's lie in Forks, and forced him to stay, like any normal, rational person would have, then everything would have been fine. Beyond fine. Incredible. If I'd told Jacob right from the off that we were just friends, I would not even be in Knives. If I'd just let Edward kiss me-

I closed my eyes and rested my head on my knees. Best not to think about that.

It was another half an hour before I was given a reason to move.

The phone rang. I turned my head and stared down at the receiver. It vibrated itself round in slow, lazy circles, and I watched it absently. I couldn't bring myself to care. I heard my own voice, sounding like a tinny Minnie Mouse, pipe out our answer message. _Hello, you've reached Bella and Jacob, please leave a message_. The person hung up and I leant my head back against the cupboard once more.

The phone rang again after a couple of seconds, but I didn't open my eyes this time. I counted the rings; it came to ten in all, and then my voice saying the same message. _Hello, you've reached Bella and __Jacob__, please leave a message_. This time, however, a voice came out of the speaker.

"Don't pretend you aren't there, Bella, I've seen you; please pick up the phone." I turned and stared at the receiver. The pale green screen was flashing an unknown number with the same area code as ours. Alice's voice rang out again. "Come on, Bella, please, I just want to check you're okay."I stared at the screen. A little timer was ticking away. 0:32, 0:33, 0:34, 0:35, 0:36. "Bella, please, pick up." 0:43, 0:44, 0:45… "Bella, _please_."

I reached out a hand and pressed the green button. I raised the handset to my ear.

"Bella?"

Her voice choked me. It was suddenly all so real what I had lost. It was all very well to think of the Cullens as people in my head who I would not see again, but to hear Alice's voice... it set alight what was a fuel-soaked pile of greif. Wham. Up in flames. I closed my eyes.

"Bella, please speak to me."

I couldn't. I was going to have to let Alice go and this was the best way to start.

"Come on, this isn't fair, Bella. Just tell me how you are and we can talk and maybe everything will work out okay. You never know."

Everything was always so easy with Alice. She had so much to say and it was always fun to listen to her babble away. Even awkward silences weren't awkward with her; she had such a relaxed presence that even the long walk up and down the hill the other day hadn't been in the least bit uncomfortable. She was nice and funny and sweet, and spoke with speed and enthusiasm and, save Edward and Jacob, was probably my favourite person in the world. But I couldn't have her when I'd given up Edward.

"Hey," she heard the bang of the cupboard door. "You know, you two are mirror images at the moment, Bella, this is so _stupid_-"

I gulped very loudly and clenched my eyes so tightly shut that the muscles in my face shook. She was still talking in my ear, and I unintentionally clung to her words. "Just- just say I can come over, and we can talk properly. We'll spray the house with a tonne of disinfectant after, Jacob won't smell a thing. I don't like to think of you all alone, Bella, not like this."

It wasn't the words, but just the sound of her voice. I put my hand to my mouth and clamped it tight so she wouldn't hear anything. My breath bloomed out between my fingers in staggered mouthfuls.

"I can hear you crying, Bella."

As soon as she said this another voice came through the speaker, distant and vague, but still recognisably velveteen.

"Give me the phone, Alice."

I heard Alice begin to say no, before I quickly pressed my finger on the red button. The phone cut off.

_Conversation: 2:45 _

My hand came away from my mouth and I leant against the cupboard door once more. I didn't breathe evenly for hours.

…

"Seriously, Bells, come look at this, it's creepy."

I stepped from the bathroom to see Jacob stood in the open doorway, beckoning to me. I came to stand with him on the doorstep, and looked out.

Everything was very still. The rain which had pattered feebly, on and off throughout the day, was gone; to be replaced by an eerie quiet. There was no wind. The sky was a flat grey with no variation and no light. The air about us seemed to hum with a sort of hidden power; it made me nervous. It was humid, and all around was the smell of rain, even though any water had long since evaporated. There were no animals, no people; the trees stood still, the litter which lined the pavements lay unmoving. A small kid ran from the front door of the house across the street. His mother appeared in the doorway, swearing, and threw an empty beer can after him. I watched it bounce along the road, where it stopped. Still.

"Moody bitch," Jacob muttered. "Mind you, I've met that kid, and he is an idiot." He turned to look at me. "It is weird, isn't it?"

"Marley said there was a storm coming."

"Who's Marley?"

"Nobody," I said. "Somebody at the hospital."

"Well, I think he was right. Hey, maybe the roads'll be closed tomorrow and we won't have to go to work." He grinned down at me. "I'm going to order Chinese. Want some?"

"Sure," I said. I'd not eaten all day and I suddenly realised how hungry I was. I felt a bit dizzy.

The phone rang in the bedroom. Jacob laughed. "That's the Chinese people wondering why we haven't called yet." He left me in the doorway and went to answer it. I stared out at the street as I heard him pick it up. "Hello?" Pause. "Nope, her fiancé. Yeah, sure, hang on- Bella?"

I didn't turn around. Icy fear rushed through me.

"Bella, phone!"

My eyes froze on the beer can in the road.

What was I going to do? Who was on the other end of that phone? Jacob wouldn't recognise Alice's voice, or Carlisle's, or Esme's- would he even recognise Edward's?

I grabbed hold of the doorframe as the cannon rushed through me again. My shoulders jerked forward and my chest jerked back. I closed my eyes but opened them quickly as Edward's face smiled at me from behind my eyelids.

"Bella! Hello!" Jacob came down the hall and shoved the phone at my face. "Phone!"

I stared at it for a moment before I took it. I didn't look at the screen. "Hello?" I mumbled.

"Miss Swan?" My heart rose, then fell. I breathed. This was no vampire. "This is Professor Farron, I'm calling about your English course."

My eyebrows shot up; and then I remembered. "Oh," I said, processing the low, sharp words. I sat down on the door step. "Hello."

"I seem to be missing your last..." there was a rustle of paper; "Three assignments."

I groaned. "I know," I said, pulling my knees up and kneading my forehead with my fist. "It's just... I've been really busy. I'm getting married on Saturday," I added, to prove my excuse.

"Well, congratulations," the Professor said, in a detached kind of voice. "I hope it goes well. But these assignments-"

"I can get them done," I assured him, pressing my fingers against my temples. "It's just, I've had literally no time lately, what with work and everything."

"I do respect that maybe you've been busy; that's the main reason people opt for a home-based degree." His tone was short and practical. "But you must understand that you aren't the only student we have on our hands, and when three hundred people fail to send in assignments, in your case repeatedly, well, Miss Swan; it causes problems."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Have you got them ready?"

I opened my eyes and stared across the street. The small kid was creeping back up the side of his house. I watched as his mother peered out of the front window and saw him; her shouts rang across the road.

"No," I said.

"We do offer a chance to postpone the course for people in situations such as yours."

I closed my eyes, and pressed my fingers around the bridge of my nose. "No," I said, "No, I don't want to do that."

"You can send me the work you've missed?"

"No, but-"

"Miss Swan, this is a two year course and you have missed the work from the last two terms."

"I know! I know, but..." The woman came out of her house and began yelling at her son. The little boy shouted back. A small girl, dressed in a Hannah Montana top and pink leggings, appeared on the doorstep and watched, sucking her thumb. The mother saw her and pointed back in the house, still yelling.

"Can I have the work by the end of the month?"

"I don't- I don't think so," I replied.

And suddenly I saw myself over there; saw myself as the greasy-haired, overweight, alcoholic mother treating her kids like dirt. This course was my one chance at getting out; I was always supposed to have a degree. I was supposed to be working with a newspaper or magazine or publishing house or _something_. But the end of the month was two weeks off. I was getting married on Sunday. I hadn't even begun the reading list; I didn't have _time_ to read.

"I can give you four weeks."

"No," I said, quietly. "No, I can't do it."

"Well, then," there was more rustling paper, and the Professor sniffed in a strangely professional way. "It seems a little pause in the workload is what is required here. I'll post some details about the postponement. They should be with you within the week."

"No," I said again, my voice growing suddenly frantic, "No, please; if I stop now I won't pick it up again, I know I won't-"

"The details will arrive in the post. You can pick the course up next year, when you're free, if it would suit you."

The phone went dead. I held it tight against my ear and stared at the figures opposite. The boy tried to make a break for it under his mothers arm, but she caught him by the shoulder and smacked him across the head. A burst of fury shot through me.

"HEY!"

I was on my feet and wondering where the sound had come from before I realised it was I who had shouted. My voice rang clearly over the still street. The mother stopped shouting at her son and they both looked up and stared at me. The little girl appeared in the doorway again, and looked at me, still sucking her thumb.

"Leave him the hell alone!" I yelled. My breath was coming very fast. I could have _slapped _her.

There was a heady silence, only emphasised by the stillness of the pre-storm weather. Then the mother straightened up, one huge fist still clutched around her son's shirt. She yelled back at me, her face pink. "Yeah, lady? You got kids?"

I glared at her, but didn't reply. She laughed. "No? Well shut the fuck up and mind your own fucking business!" She turned to her son and hit him again. He rubbed his head. I heard faint hisses as she spat something at him which I couldn't hear, and the boy ran inside. The little girl ran in as well, before her mom could see she was there. The mother stuck her finger up at me, then followed. Their front door slammed behind them.

"Bella?" Jacob's voice came from the kitchen. "You okay? What was that about?" He appeared by my side, taking my hand and staring at the house.

"Nothing," I said. He squeezed my fingers.

"Who was on the phone?"

"The Professor from the course. I had to postpone it."

Jacob looked down at me, his eyes full of pity and his expression empathetic. He wrapped his arm around my head and pressed my against his chest. I curled by arms under his and laid my hands on his shoulders.

"You can pick it up again, Bells. Don't worry." His kissed the top of my head. "And that woman over there's a bitch. Don't listen to a word she says. Come inside."

I didn't move. I curled my hands into fists and held on to Jacob. The edges of my hole were quietly burning. Jacob was saying something else but I wasn't listening. The air tingled with tension and I knew it would snap soon. I felt a tiny raindrop on the back of my neck.

"Hey, Bells, cheer up," Jacob said, quietly. "We're getting married on Sunday, right? You should be happy."

I took a breath, and collected everything in my head. I locked it securely in a closed box in the corner of my mind and pulled away from Jacob. I smiled up at him. "I am happy, Jake. I can't wait."

He looked down at me for a moment, his face confused. His dark eyes searched mine. Then, tentatively, he smiled, and kissed my forehead. "I do love you, Bella."

"I love you too," I said, quietly.

Jacob went back inside. I gave the house across the street a last glance, and then followed.

…

It was the dead of night, still and black and cold, with no stars and no moon. I was walking along a long, rickety rope bridge, across the width of a huge canyon. The bridge was made of a long row of rotting wooden planks, which wobbled slightly with every step I took; it reminded me of the shorter one in the playpark back in Phoenix. I glanced over the edge and tried to see the bottom of the chasm, but it was too dark; definitely further down than the one in Phoenix. All that was discernable below were the two sides of rock, getting closer and disappearing into shadow. I pulled away from the side and the bridge swung. I turned my head to the rock edge that I was walking towards. There was a huge, hay coloured meadow, dotted with multihued wildflowers, swaying in a breeze even though there was no wind. It wasn't night in the meadow; it glowed in the gold beam of a sun that wasn't in the sky. I knew I needed to reach it. There was something I needed to see there.

I took another step, and glanced up at the sky. I saw hundreds of silver dots slowly falling towards me; rain. I held out my fingers to catch it as it came, both palms outstretched. The hundreds of falling drops got closer and closer and I closed my eyes.

I felt the first raindrop fall onto my skin and my eyes opened in shock. The rain had cut a small slit in my skin and a small trickle of blood spilled out onto my hand. Another drop fell on my other hand, creating an identical injury. And then more rain fell, and more. A drop fell diagonally onto my cheek and I gasped as it slit a wide hole. "What?" I said, quietly. My fingers jerked to my face and wiped the blood away. Another raindrop fell, then another, then another. "No," I said confused. "No, stop it." I watched the blood come from small cuts in my arms, my fingers, felt it dribble down my face. This wasn't right, surely? This was not how rain was meant to be.

I moved forward, and the rain got heavier. I bit my lip as a larger cut was made on my forearm. I took a step back, and the rain lessened. Another step back and it stopped. I glanced at my arm. The wounds were healing over before my eyes; soon all trace of them had gone.

I glanced forward at the meadow. I had to reach it. I knew I had to reach it. I took a step toward it; a raindrop fell on my finger and I gasped slightly. Blood oozed over my skin.

The grass in the meadow waved, tempting me. There was something stood there; a figure, tall and pale. I didn't know who it was. I just knew I had to get there. I took a breath.

I started to walk forward, the rain beginning again and getting heavier. I closed my eyes against the pain as it increased, as the raindrops grew larger. The water mingled with my blood, trickling down my arm dripping onto the bridge. It fell from the direction of the meadow, diagonally toward me. I opened my eyes to check. Not far now. I was more than three quarters of the way across. A rain drop sliced through my side and I winced. The blood trickled down over my jeans.

I took another step, and shouted out. A piece of hail had crashed into me; and through me. I clasped my hand to my chest. Blood poured through my fingers, and I screamed, panicking. "Stop!" I said, again. "Stop that, it hurts!"

But it didn't stop. The hail fell and I stood still, crippled with the force of the frozen water which was smashing holes right through me. The blood made me feel sick, and it poured over my shirt, spreading and flooding down my stomach. I still had seven or so steps before I reached the meadow. _I had to reach the meadow. _

The rain was falling so hard I could barely see, and I was coated in a thin, watered down sheen of my own blood. Interspersed with the rain were huge balls of hail. They flew right through me; I could hear them pattering against the wood of the bridge behind me. The planks swayed dangerously. I shouted at the weather some more. "Stop it! Please stop it!"

The meadow swayed peacefully in front of me, and I closed my eyes against the rain. _I had to reach the meadow._ My skin burned as new slashes cut through old slashes, and blood poured from me. I took another step. The hail burned through my chest. My shirt was stained completely red now. I took another step, and screamed out. Another. The rain sliced me and the hail bashed holes through me but I had to get to the meadow, and it hurt, but I had to get through the meadow, and there were huge gaping holes in me with edges that burned, but I had to, I had to, I had to reach the meadow. The vague figure waved at me. I had to reach the meadow. A raindrop cut through my cheek and blood dribbled into my mouth. I had to reach the meadow.

Another step. A shard of hail punched through my chest, and I stared at the resulting hole in horror. I was sure I should be dead.

I glanced up. A figure had appeared at the end of the bridge, in front of the meadow; not three metres from me. It was Jacob. "Jake!" I called. "Jake, make the rain stop!"

Jacob shook his head. "I won't make it stop, Bella."

"But it hurts," I told him. "You can make it stop, I know you can." As soon as I said it I knew it was true. But Jacob smiled sadly. The rain slashed five holes in my shirt at once, and I winced. "Please, Jake!"

"It will stop if you go back. Go back, Bella."

I stared at him, and took a step back. The rain lessened, just like before. Behind Jacob the meadow rolled in a wind that I could not feel. The grass was lit up by that strange gold light. It looked so warm. The figure was still waiting for me.

"See? Just go back to the other side," Jacob said, smiling. I stared at him.

"I can't," I said, stifling a cry as the rain poured on me. Blood and water were pooling at my feet.

"You can."

I shook my head and took another step. The hail was the size of footballs and it slammed through me. I buckled over, curling my fingers around the rope of the bridge. Blood swelled up in my mouth and I spat it out. "Jake, please," I begged, holding up my arm against the downpour. The rain slashed it.

"Go back."

"I can't go back."

"I won't make it stop."

I took another step, and the hail blew me back. I grabbed the rope and screamed at the pain which burst from my chest. "Please, Jake!" I shrieked. "Please, Jake, please!"

"Go back, Bella!"

"I can't go back!" I said, tears falling from my eyes. The rain fell harder, and more blood spurted from broken skin. "Please make it stop!"

Jacob shook his head, and then he looked down. His eyes set on something at my feet, and I followed his gaze.

The rain was pooling on the bridge in front of me, but it was pooling up in a set shape; like it was falling into a mould. It looked like two silver feet, the top of the shapes rippling. The rain carried on falling and gathered, filling in the outline of silver legs, then a silver chest. Then arms. A neck. A head.

Edward smiled down at me with silver teeth in silver lips. His figure stopped the rain hitting me.

"Ignore him, Bella!" Jacob called. "Ignore him and go back!"

I smiled up at the rain-silvered Edward. He smiled down at me; a strange, equal-sided smile that didn't seem to fit his face. I frowned up at him, confused.

"Go back, Bella!" Jacob called. I couldn't see him; Edward blocked my view.

"I love you, Bella," Edward whispered.

"I love you too," I said. He opened his arms wide, and I lost all concern for whether or not his smile was right. What did it matter? I stepped forward.

"Go back, Bella!" Jacob's voice was distant. I stepped into Edward's arms.

The rain Edward wrapped himself around me, with strong, cold arms; and then he exploded into a million icy shards. The shards ripped through me, and I screamed out in absolute agony as I felt myself being shredded, torn apart by the tiny drops of what I had thought was the man I loved. I fell to the floor of the bridge, clutching my sides, trying desperately to hold myself together; but I knew I was damaged beyond repair. I saw Jacob's feet coming toward me, and then his dry, sad face appeared above mine. "I'm sorry, Bella," he said. "I told you to go back."

And then he kicked me off the side of the bridge and I was falling and falling and falling, spinning and cartwheeling through the air, and beside me the rock sides were narrowing, and suddenly I could see the ground, zooming toward me, and I screamed as it grew nearer and nearer, and then it was ten metres, five, four, three, two, one-

I sat up straight in bed, screaming, eyes wide open.

My bedroom snapped into focus. Familiar bed, familiar walls, lit in the familiar yellow glow of the familiar bedlight. The edges of the room were hung with shadows. Jacob was kneeling on the bed in front of me, looking terrified. He took me by the shoulders. "Bella!" He shouted, trying to stop me screaming. "Sssh, Bella! It was just a dream, okay, just a dream!"

I stared at him, my breath coming in panicked gasps, and I lifted my hands in front of my face. Cold relief rushed through me as I saw the unmarked stretch of white skin. Jacob looked at me, at a complete loss.

"Are you okay?" His russet skin looked copper in the warm, feeble light. "Jesus, Bells, you freaked me out."

"Yes," I said, gasping slightly. "Yes, I'm okay."

"You just started screaming- I didn't know what to do, I thought you were going insane or something," he said, his eyes wide. "What the _hell_ were you dreaming about?"

I tried to catch my breath, my eyes wandering about wildly. They locked on the window; the curtains weren't drawn and I could see outside. Rain was falling thick and fast, and the wind whistled loud and clear. Jacob turned to look outside as well.

"Storm's hit."

I stared at the grey rain as it fell, trying to calm down. Only a dream. I breathed in and out. Lightning sparked across the sky and lit up the falling rain. I jumped.

"I'm going to go and get a... a drink," I said, still staring out the window.

"Okay," Jacob said, still looking worried. "Do you need me to come with you?"

"No," I said. "No, go back to sleep."

"Are you sure? I-"

"Go back to sleep, Jacob, you've got work tomorrow."

He stared at me, his dark hair tangled slightly around his ears. "Okay," he said. "Okay. There're some cans in the fridge if you want, or you could just have a hot chocolate or something." I nodded, and he kissed my forehead. "You look dead pale, Bells."

"I'm fine," I told him, sliding out from under the duvet and clicking off the bedside light. "Night."

"Night," he said, watching me go. I padded across the carpet and twisted the door handle; glancing back I saw him slipping back under the sheets. He smiled at me. "Love you, Bella."

I smiled back, and shut the door behind me.

The corridor was very cold. I slid through the kitchen door, flicked on the light and strode over to the kettle, filling it up and turning it on. My fingers were shaking. The fear of the nightmare still clung to me and it was difficult to shake it.

I waited for the water to boil, gazing out of the small kitchen window at the rain. I could see the street lamps outside wobbling about in the wind, and jumped out of my skin as an entire branch of a tree flew past the glass.

The kettle whistled at me and the switch flicked up. I turned around and watched the steam billowing upward. I put my hand over the top and stopped it as it came; when I pulled it away there were water droplets on my palm. I wiped them on my sweats and grabbed a mug and a tea bag from the cupboard. I used up the dregs of milk at the bottom of the carton and threw it away. The wind howled under the back door. I walked over, tea in hand, and pressed my toe against the crack. The air gusted over my foot.

I stared around the tiny little kitchen, and suddenly it didn't feel like my home. It felt cramped and dark and unfriendly. I hated the walls and I hated the floor and I hated the plastic curtains and the faux-wood cupboards and the leaking fridge and the stupid whistling kettle. I walked over to the sink and poured my undrunk tea down the plughole.

I went out, turning off the light as I passed the switch, and slipped back into the bedroom. Jacob's form lay, still, breathing deeply, under the duvet, his huge feet poking out of the bottom. I smiled, and walked over, pulling the sheets down over them. I remembered the trouble we had had finding a bed long enough for him. It had taken us weeks.

I switched on the bedlight and sat on the mattress next to him. He looked so peaceful and happy while he slept; his long hair curled around his face and his eyelashes fluttered. It was almost hard to believe he was nearly seven foot when all you could see was his head. He still looked like the kid who had become my friend over a couple of motorbikes and a broken heart, all that time ago.

I tucked his hair behind his ears and ran my finger along the length of his nose. His fingers twitched and he muttered something, rolling over to lie on his back. The duvet fell from his shoulders and suddenly he looked as huge as he really was. His hand lay on the pillow and I ran my fingers over his. His skin was so warm, hot almost. I curled my fingers in between each of his, and clutched his hand.

A wave of sadness washed over me as I stared down at him. He deserved so much better than me, and although I knew I would never leave him, I desperately wished I could. I wished that I had never let him kiss me. I wished I was still in Forks, watching him build motorbikes and talking about all the homework we'd missed.

Or, if I was wishing for things, I wished I could go back a little further. But I shook my head and brought myself into the present. No point moping.

I turned and stared out of the window, watching the rain fall for a few minutes. Dream Jacob's face swam back into my head, and I shivered. As of Sunday, I would no longer be Bella Swan; it would be Bella Black. I'd have to call the bank. I'd have to change my user settings at work.

And as of Sunday there would be no turning back. That would be it. I had no idea how on earth I was going to manage it- walking up the aisle, saying vows I didn't mean- without bursting into tears. It would give me away a little if I broke down on the day which was supposed to be the happiest in my life.

Jacob's fingers twitched in mine again. I squeezed his warm hand tight.

Maybe something would happen before then. Maybe I'd fall off my bike on the way to work tomorrow, or I'd get hit by a truck or something. Jacob couldn't marry me if I was smeared over the highway. Maybe one of us would develop a serious illness, which was so highly infectious the wedding would have to be postponed. Maybe, I thought, staring through the glass at the Give Way sign at the end of the road as it shook in the wind, the storm would blow the church down and there would be nowhere to get married. Or I could just knock myself out tripping over my own train. That was probably highly likely.

Or maybe someone would rush into the church at the right moment and yell an objection. My mind swam with images of Edward running in and begging me again. I didn't know what I would do. I would probably just faint dead away. Hey, there was another way of escaping marriage.

I felt slightly panicky as I thought about it. All of a sudden the walls of my home started to close in. I wondered what I would be like in ten, fifteen years. I'd look older. I'd almost definitely be fatter, judging by how much weight I'd already put on just over the last few weeks. I'd probably still be living in Cawdor, still with the same job; I'd never have the guts to quit. I would probably never pick up the College course again. Maybe we'd have a kid, Jacob and I. I shivered at the thought. It would have to sleep in the bathtub and live off Lo Mein.

And then, in twenty years, thirty? What about when I got to the point of being sixty, still living in this house, still the receptionist, with Jacob still going on about the promotion he was supposed to have got half a year ago? I'd be one of those old ladies who mums forbade their kids to go to trick or treating. Would Jacob ever give up the werewolf thing? Would he age with me or would he stay the same and get slowly more and more disgusted with the increasingly gross stages of human aging?

And worse- what if one day I was shuffling along down the street with my zimmer frame, and just bumped into Edward? I'd probably die there and then. I could never face him again, after I was married. He would be truly gone forever. As dust on the wind, and with him my chance at eternal happiness, eternal youth... gone with him my chance at succeeding at what I wanted to do, gone with him Alice, gone with him Carlisle and Esme and the whole family. It would all blow away and I would be doomed to become the mother across the street. I felt sick. And not just sick; scared. Terrified. One day I was going to die and I was going to have achieved nothing.

Jacob's hand twitched again. I loosened my fingers and pulled away.

I had to get out of this house. The walls were closing in around me and I felt cramped. I threw on jeans and a blouse, and searched around for my jacket. It didn't appear to be anywhere. I kissed Jacob on the forehead and left the bedroom. The corridor was cool, but not as cold as it would be outside. I checked the bathroom for my jacket, but it was nowhere. I poked around in the kitchen, but it wasn't there either. Sighing, I walked toward the door. _Well_, I supposed, _Skin is waterproof too._

I opened the door and stepped outside.

The wind hit me like a battering ram and I shut the door with my back as I fell on it. My hair swirled around my head and I squinted, holding my hand up against the sudden downpour. It was incredibly dark; the only sources of light were the sparse street lamps; those that worked only let out a flickering orange glow which lit up pools at their feet but not much further. The lights were off in all the houses. The wind grabbed my hair and fought with it, and the sudden chill whipped goosebumps up on my arms.

Now that I was out I had no doubts as to where I would go. I headed off to where I had gone the last time I'd been out in the dead of night. I headed off to the bridge.

The roads were dark and nameless in the midst of the storm, and all I could hear was the wind and the ceaseless hail of rain and the occasional rumble of thunder. A car rushed around the corner, splashing up a gallon of water from the road and sending it my way. I gasped out at the cold. Water dribbled down my arm. The headlights lit up small squares of the sheeting rain.

It took me ten minutes of walking to reach my destination, and by the time I reached the bridge my teeth were chattering and my clothes were soaked through. My jeans clung uncomfortably to my legs. I stepped up on the parapet and walked along it, trying to clear my head. The wind made me stumble and my heart jumped; but I didn't fall. I peered over the edge. It was a long way down to the river.

The wind and the rain and being so alone; it cleared my head. I let my mind wander as I walked back and forth along the bridge. I thought about Renée and how I would see her tomorrow. I thought about Charlie and his heavy breathing, and worried about him. I thought about Leah. I wondered if she was any happier now. I doubted it.

The storm was picking up in pace. The wind was flooding past me now, surging through my hair in huge, minutes-long gusts; it spurred the rain forward with bullet like strength, leaving red marks on my skin. I stretched my arms out wide and bent my head back, staring at the black, oppressive sheet of sky above. The orange glow of the street lamps provided such pathetic light that I could barely see anything; all was black and wet and cold and powerful. The wind roared, whipping up debris from the street, conducting a chorus of rustling leaves from the choir of trees below, either side of the river. I closed my eyes, shivering violently. The wind screamed and the rain poured and water seeped through my tennis shoes. My blouse clung to my arms and flapped miserably.

I glanced down at the river below. I could see nothing but glints of water-tips as it surged along, huge and deep and fast. If I fell now it would be the end; I couldn't swim in that. I smiled, thinking of the clarity of the hallucinatory Edward that would greet me on my way down. I would fall like a rock and he would hold my hand the whole way. And then there would be a huge crash, a few moments of cold, the dark unfathomable movements of the currents, then… _nothing_. I stared down at the water. Nothing... it was so inviting. Just one step forward and it would all be over.

Lighting flared up in the sky and was gone. I blinked. I stared down at the river, hundreds of feet below, and shook myself. What was I thinking?

I was going to have to get off this bridge before I did something really stupid. I gave the river one last look; it really was a long way down. My heart dropped to my stomach. I was beginning to scare myself.

I turned around and shivered, wrapping my arms around myself. The wind blew into my eyes and I squinted to keep them open. My sodden clothes stuck to me like Clingfilm.

_Don't do anything reckless._ I thought of the long drop below me and laughed. If Edward could see me now-

The cannon shot through me and I buckled over, stumbling backwards.

I fell. My entire body scraped across the wrong edge of the parapet in a split second, my chin bashing against the concrete and knocking the back of my head into the nape of my neck. I screamed and lunged out with my hands. My fingers hit concrete and I clung on desperately- my body jerked to a halt, my bones snapping back together sharply, and I screamed again. My eyes clamped shut.

I couldn't breathe. My fingers scrabbled around the concrete but I couldn't open my eyes to look where to hold. My body hung like a dead weight and my arms burst with sudden pain. My fingers slid across the wet surface and I screamed again. My eyes snapped open and I saw the few inches of rock which was my only lifeline. I took a breath, reached out with one hand, and grabbed one of the thin concrete pillars which made up the railings. My body swung precariously and I screamed long and shrill. I took another breath and grabbed a second pillar with my other hand. The rain whipped my fingers. I was very cold, and very numb, very quickly.

My legs hung in space and I desperately swung them about, trying to find a surface to cling to. The wind rushed around me, tossing my lower body around like a rag doll, making it ever harder to cling on. The rain came down in droves, but the darkness of night hid it from me; I could only feel it batter my skin. My fingers were losing their grip and I couldn't stop screaming and screaming. Panic took hold of me and I swung my body desperately about, trying to pull myself up. I couldn't do it. My shoulders shrieked in protest.

I screamed and screamed and screamed, but my noise was barely audible above that of the wind. My legs dangled helplessly. There was nothing below except space to fall into. The grinding rush of the river was louder now, more pronounced, and sang resonantly over my panicked screams. I couldn't think, couldn't breathe; I ran out of air to scream with. My throat was clogged and I gasped, pressing my numbed fingers hard against the concrete. It rubbed my skin raw. My elbows and shoulders were stretched and aching, my body hung underneath them, limp and heavy. My arms were straight and stretched. The joints of my fingers felt like they were about to tear.

I couldn't help it- I glanced down. The blood drained from my face as my eyes locked on the rolling blackness below. I knew that, very shortly, I would lose my grip fall into it. It was such a long way down. It would be so cold.

_Hold on, Bella,_ a velvet voice whispered in my ear. _Don't look down. Hold on._

It was all I could do not to let go in surprise. My breath caught and my eyes clamped shut. My fingers pressed tighter around the concrete. "Okay," I said, my voice shaking. My fingers froze and I screwed up my face. The wind swirled the sodden strings of my hair about, and the rain slammed onto me; a million icy fingertips.

_Hold on_, he whispered.

Above me the sky roared with thunder. My arms were vibrating from the effort of supporting my whole body. I could hear my shoulders creaking. I screamed out again as the wind surged from under the bridge and slammed against me, blowing me backward- I grasped my hands tighter around the thin columns- it was so dark and so cold and my arms screeched with pain-

_Hold on_.

"I can't!" I shouted, "I can't!"

_Do it for me, Bella. Hold on._

His voice was swept away with the wind. He couldn't stop talking; he had to keep going, or I would fall, I knew I would, down down down _down_-

"I'm going to die, I'm going to die-"

_You are not going to die, Isabella. Hold on. _But his velvet tones were edged with panic and I didn't believe him. _Please just hold on, Bella, please._

I dug my nails into the cracks in the stone. I could feel blood seeping across my palms. The rain bashed against my closed eyelids and my hair clung to my face, as the wind wrapped it around me like icy tendrils. My wrists were burning and I gasped out, biting my lip. A sharp shot of pain ripped through my arm muscles and I bit through. Blood landed on my tongue.

"I'm going to fall," I whispered to my imaginary lover, "I'm going to fall I'm going to fall I'm going to fall-"

_You aren't, Bella, I promise, just hold on._

"It hurts," I gasped, "It really hurts-"

_Just hold on._

"I can't!" I screamed, and my index finger slipped and suddenly my left hand was hanging by my side and my life depended entirely on my right arm. I swung wildly around and screamed out in pain. I felt wet tears mingle with the rain on my face and I closed my eyes and prepared myself to let go. My arm burned so fiercely I half believed it was on fire. My legs stopped waving about.

I quietly gave up. I bid my hallucination a mental goodbye.

_No, Bella, _he growled,_ don't you dare!_

"I'm sorry," I whispered. My vision was blurring. Maybe I wouldn't be conscious as I fell. That would make it easier. My arm burned. The world in front of my eyes wavered and I let my eyelids shut. I couldn't stand the pain from my shoulder much longer. The wind blew me against the bridge and my cheek slammed against the concrete. I screamed out again as my shoulder twisted around. My arm shook from the effort of holding on. I couldn't do this. "I'm sorry," I said again, my voice strained. Five, four, three, two, one-

"BELLA!"

I relaxed my fingers. The concrete was gone from my hand and I dropped.

Something grabbed my wrist and my shoulder snapped upwards. I screamed out again. My neck slammed into my skull.

I looked upward to see what had stopped my fall.

Edward was staring down at me, a look of cold horror on his face. His hand clutched around my wrist so tight the blood was cut off. He didn't seem to be able to move.

A switch flicked in my head and terror sparked up once more. "Edward!" I cried out, "Please don't let me fall, please don't let me fall-" I grabbed upwards with my free hand, ignoring the burst of agony from my shoulder, and wrapped slippery fingers around his cold, smooth skin. "Don't let me fall, please don't let me fall-" My eyes were wide and frantic, but he just stared at me. His hair was wet and raindrops ran down his face. He looked terrified.

"Edward!" I screamed at him, "Please, Edward, please!"

His face jerked back into action. "I would never let you fall," he said, so softly I could barely hear it over the grinding wind. And he began hauling me upward. I cried out at the protest from the muscles in my arm. I kept repeating, "Don't let me fall, don't let me fall;" I couldn't stop. The rain slapped against me as he pulled me over the edge, and then he gently grasped my waist and lifted me over. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my head against his shirt. "Don't let me fall, don't let me fall…"

He knelt down on the pavement and pressed his hand against my back, holding me tight against him. I shook violently in his arms, clenching my own tightly around him. "Don't let me fall, don't let me, don't-"

"I didn't," he said, his voice quiet and low. "You're alright, Bella," he hugged me against his chest. "You're alright."

"Don't let me fall-"

He pressed me ever closer against himself, his large palm spread around my head. He was shaking slightly too. "You're alright," he said, as though to reassure himself. "You're alright." I sobbed into his shirt, shaking from cold and fear and shock. I could feel the raw burn from my legs and my fingers and my stomach, where the skin had been torn away. I felt like jelly, and my legs couldn't get used to a surface underneath them. I could still feel an abyss below me and I cried out, clutching myself to Edward so tight it would have hurt anyone else. I clung to him and vowed never to let go. I could feel my fingers as they shook, and curled them around his neck.

"Ssh," he whispered in my ear. I could feel his lips against my skin and I shivered. The rain lashed down and the wind howled, but Edward's body shielded me against it. I curled up on his knees and tried to block the roar of the river from my ears. Edward was so cool and solid and he held me so close, but I couldn't stop crying, or shaking, and I couldn't let go. I kept a vice-like grip around his neck. "Ssh, Bella. You're alright. I've got you. You're safe now."

I sobbed into his shirt, my breath refusing to come back to me. I heaved in oxygen and wheezed it out in large stutters, struggling to get words out in between.

"I- I, was going to, fall, Edward, I was going to-"

"You didn't fall." He smoothed my hair down. "You didn't fall."

I coughed violently against his skin and shook and shook and shook. I couldn't support myself. The only thing I could do was cling on and clench my eyes shut as tight as they would go. I don't know how long we sat there on the pavement, with the storm raging powerful around us. He never let me go, and I felt protected; almost... safe, although the river which could easily have been my grave rushed directly below us and the wind which would have sent me there whistled through my ears. Occasionally he would whisper in my ear, and I would nod or shake my head. I don't remember what he said. I never loosened my grip.

After a time my breath returned and the panic eased slightly. I relaxed my arms. The muscles felt like they were ablaze, and I gasped. Edward reached up and loosened my fingers, pulling them away from his neck. My arms ached as he set them gently by my side. I looked up at his face.

He was crying. My eyes widened in shock. There were no tears, although the rain made it almost seem like there were, but he was crying all the same. His breath was gaspy and his shoulders quivered. Thunder rumbled overhead and a flash of lightning lit his eyes up gold. I stared at him, and he smiled sadly down. "What were you thinking, Bella?" he asked me, lifting his hand and tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. He smiled sadly at me. "What were you thinking?" His voice was punctured.

"I fell," I said, trying to block the memory of it.

"I thought-" he took a breath, steadying himself. His eyes searched mine, and I gazed back into his. "I knew you were accident prone," he took my hand in his, and ran his thumb over it, smiling through his quivering lips, "But really, Bella."

I laughed through my tears. He stared down at me, and I stared up at him, watching his face as it calmed and his breathing evened out. His skin was silvery and shone bright in the dim light. The wind whipped his hair about. The weather roared and rushed around us. A raindrop raced down his nose and dropped. His eyes seemed deeper and darker than ever in the pale orange light; I could stare at them forever.

"I almost lost you," he said, quietly. "Oh God, Bella, if Alice hadn't- I couldn't lose you, not again. I couldn't." His fingers twisted in the hair that hung about my shoulders, and I could see them shaking.

Slowly I shook my head, wiping my eyes with my hand. "You will never lose me," I said. He stared down at me and I stared up at him. And then I reached up screaming arms, grabbed both sides of his head and pulled myself up against his lips.

As soon as we touched all the loads on my mind fell away. I felt him smile gently against me, as he pulled me up against him, a hand on my back, a hand in my hair. I closed my eyes tight and wrapped an arm around his head as he kissed me. I cried onto his face; we were both already wet from rain; rain which was still falling around us, droving down onto our heads and onto our skin. I clenched my fingers in his hair and pressed myself closer. He kissed me with an intensity I had never felt before, and his hands joined behind my head to press me closer still. The rain ran from his face onto mine; his nose pressed against mine, his lips were soft and strangely warm against mine. I couldn't help the tears which rolled from my eyes. I think he was still crying too.

We rested our foreheads together, and I breathed slow and deep. His breath landed cool and fast on my face. "I'm sorry," I whispered. He shook his head and kissed me again. His fingers roved through my hair and he rested a cool hand on my cheek.

"You're bleeding," he whispered slowly against my lips, his hand gently moving across a cut on my skin. He stopped breathing.

I didn't move away; I couldn't. I just stared at him, as his eyes, so close they blurred into one, bore into mine. His skin looked airbrushed, even this near. He was so perfect.

He paused for a moment, his fingers moving back and forth over the cut; and then he breathed in deeply, and I stopped breathing entirely; then a crooked, one sided smile, which made my heart swell and my breath re-start, spread slowly across his face. I beamed back at him, and traced his grin with my forefinger. "Cured?" I asked. In an answer he took my face in his hands and kissed me again.

And then, both hands still around my face, he froze.

…


	17. you

**supposing i dreamed this)  
only imagine,when day has thrilled  
you are a house around which  
i am a wind-windows,unobserved**

**your walls will not reckon how  
strangely my life is curved  
since the best he can do  
is to peer through**

**.**

**.**

**Such a kind thought, to brave the wind and rain and other suchlike elements for the purpose of delivering a jacket. **

**The wind is screaming at the rain and the rain is trying to hit back, slamming itself down with as much volume and velocity as it can manage, but it has no effect because wind cannot feel it and carries on screaming. The sky is heavy browed and disapproving, glaring with dark eyes at its children, trying to express with its countenance that which it feels, growling occasionally. Lightning every so often will flash up the sky like the blink of the camera; here's one for the family album and no doubt. **

**The river below is struggling to understand, rushing and bubbling for the concern of its maker as more of itself slams into itself in a confusing and highly disconcerting chain of events. The wind will not leave it be and slaps it hard. You think you're better than me? Well just you look I can tell you what to do and where to go and there's nothing you can do about it.**

**The forests wave and shake about, dancing a war dance directed by the stronger side of the argument. The rain rains on the stationary parade but dampening spirits won't get you anywhere.**

**The bridge on which two halves of a whole sit and begin to try and stitch themselves back together again is filling up, water running along it and pooling in it like blood. The girl clutches the boy and neither knows exactly how the other feels but let me tell you you could have swapped both their souls around for that moment and neither of them would have noticed the change.**

**Such a kind thought, to brave the wind and rain and other suchlike elements for the purpose of delivering a jacket. It seems the pain of being a delivery boy is going all that way to watch someone else's gratification.**

**.**

I opened my eyes, and leant back from Edward a little. "What?" I looked up to meet his gaze, but he wasn't looking at me. He was staring over my shoulder. "What is it?" I turned around, blinking away the raindrops which fell onto my eyelashes.

I saw what it was.

A lone, rain blurred figure stood at the end of the bridge; tall, dark skinned; dark hair that was blowing about in the wind. He stood in a circle of orange light, grey flashes of rain casting dotted shadows on the road at his feet. His features were hidden in shadows but the way he stood: hunched over, arms limp; they told me all I needed to know. I turned my whole body his way. Edward took my hand and squeezed it.

There was a moment of silence, as I stared at Jacob and Jacob stared back at me. My heart, so newly fixed, shattered once more.

And then Jacob spoke, and his words carried faintly on the wind.

"I came looking for you," he shouted, his voice uneven. "I didn't know where you went."

Silence.

"I guess I do now."

I stared at him. Another toll of thunder rumbled through the air, greeted instantly by a huge streak of lighting, so big I could see heaven through it. Jacob looked up at the sky, then back to me. Rain splashed into my eyes and I blinked.

I tried to stand up but stumbled; Edward caught me as I fell, and stood up behind me.

Jacob didn't move.

"Jake," I called over the shouting wind. I didn't know what to say.

Edward saw it before I did, and his hand rested firmly on my shoulder; Jacob's outline began to vibrate, the convulsions of his form getting more and more pronounced.

"Jacob!" I called out. "Jacob- I-" but I couldn't think of anything.

"I brought your jacket," he shouted, his voice shaking as much as his figure. He held it up, so I could see its outline. "I thought you might be cold."

I shook my head. "Jacob-" I tried to escape Edward's hold but he wouldn't release me. Jacob was shaking so hard it looked like he was experiencing his own private earthquake.

"No, Jake, please, just calm down, just stay-" I tried to pull away from Edward but he held me tight. Jacob was shuddering now, trembling. "Jacob!" I shouted, struggling against Edward's hand. "Wait, please wait-" But Jacob was backing away, trembling all over. "No, Jake- Edward, _let go of me_!" But he wouldn't. I strained against him, moving my feet forward whilst Edward held me back, and all the while Jacob was stepping further and further away. "Jacob!" I screamed over the wind. "Please Jake, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"I did everything I could, Bells!" Jacob called, his voice cracking. "I really tried!" The wind was stealing his voice and running with it in the other direction. I could barely hear him.

"I know!" I shouted, "Please, Jake, just stay, just let me- explain-"

"I really loved you, Bells!"

It was the past tense that got me. I shouted something vague and nonsensical, and reached up, trying to prise Edward's fingers from my shoulder. "JACOB!" I screamed. "Please, Jake, please stay-"

Jacob shook his head, backing away further. "No!" I shouted, my sobs coming back with the same aggression as before, hijacking my ability to speak and breathe. Jacob was clenching his fists, almost out of the circle of orange light, great convulsions rolling over his body like waves. I screamed after him; there was a crack of thunder overhead. Jacob glanced up at the sky, and lightning lit up his face; my heart evaporated. He looked like he'd been stabbed.

And then his chest jerked backwards, his form jittering around the edges; and he exploded. My jacket hung suspended in the air, then dropped to the ground. Jacob had disappeared in a second; a black shape and its shadow, gone in a great leap. And only then did Edward let me go.

"NO!" I screamed, and ran forward, towards the space where Jacob had stood. "No - Jacob!" I yelled. "Jacob, come back, come back-" I tripped, and fell forwards; the road zoomed towards my face but strong arms caught me before I fell. I pushed them away, and stumbled to my feet, running forward again. I screamed Jacob's name into the night, and the rain fell and the wind roared and flashes of lighting split the sky. "Jacob!"

"He's gone, Bella," Edward called, behind me.

"No," I said, shaking my head, walking forwards again. The bridge was twenty feet behind me now and all around were dark, dilapidated houses. "No, he has to come back, I have to explain!" I ran on through the rain, yelling. "Jacob!"

"Bella, please!"

"JACOB!" I screamed it so loudly that it ripped my throat. "JAKE!" The word shot out from my throat with the volume and force of a cannonball.

"Bella-"

"I broke his heart!" I shouted, turning around and facing Edward with frantic eyes. "I swore I wouldn't, I told you I wouldn't, this isn't what I'm supposed to do, I'm supposed to make him happy, and now he's gone and he- won't, he won't come back-" I turned around and ran further up the street, yelling his name. Thunder rolled again and drowned out my voice. My throat was sore. "Jacob!" Nothing. Rain. Wind. Thunder. "Jake, please!" Lightning. I pressed my fist to my mouth and searched the dark streets desperately with my eyes. The rain was still lashing down and it hindered my vision even more than the night did. I was shivering violently but I wasn't sure it was the cold that was doing it.

"Bella," Edward was suddenly in front of me, his eyes wide. "Stop."

I shook my head, and tears flew from my face. "I've got, to find him, I've got, to," I gulped, shivering viciously. I felt chilled to the bone and my teeth chattered violently. "You don't, understand, Edward, you don't-"

"Yes, I do," he said, resting his hands either side of my face. A huge raindrop smashed into my nose and flecks of water sprinkled my cheeks, already red with cold. The wind whipped my hair around into my eyes, and Edward wiped it away. "Bella," he took a breath. "Do you want to go back to Jacob?" his face was calm but something crossed his eyes which gave him away. "I won't stop you."

"N-n-no," I shivered, shaking my head. "No, but-"

"Then there's nothing you can do."

I stared up into Edward's eyes. His face was calm and controlled, but he wasn't making any sense. "I need to find him!" I said, trying to pull away. "I need to- to explain, to make it all okay," I pulled away from Edward, and ran on. I felt dizzy but kept on running, kept on screaming. I was running out of breath to shout with and my throat was split, and suddenly the ground was zooming up into my face again. Again Edward caught me, and again I tried to pull away. He wouldn't let me go.

"Edward!" I turned and screamed at him. My hair whipped across his face. "Let me go! LET ME GO!"

"No," he said, "No, Bella."

I turned and pulled away from him. "JACOB!" I screamed. "PLEASE, JAKE, COME BACK!" The world fudged around me. Everything was spinning and I wasn't sure which way was up and which was down. I couldn't stop shivering. My breath was very slow and I could feel my heart beat in my ears. I could feel my strength leaving me as the world span, and all the blood suddenly rushed to my head. I stumbled, losing my footing even though I was stood still, and I collapsed over Edward's restraining arm. I tried to call out for Jacob again, but my mouth wouldn't move properly.

Edward reached out for my shoulders and pulled me tight against him. He pressed my head to his chest, and the last thing I saw before I passed out was the sodden green cashmere of his jumper.

…

**((EPOV))**

"What happened?"

I glanced up at Esme, standing shocked at the foot of the stairs clutching an empty vase, as I strode toward the living room. "Could you get some blankets, please?" I asked her. I turned my head back to the small, white face in my arms. I kicked the wooden door open, crossed the carpet and gently laid Bella down on the couch. I kneeled beside her. Her lips were blue and her skin was cold.

Esme ran in with a pile of blankets and rugs. She gave them to me, eyes wide, questioning. _**What happened?**_

"Nothing happened," I said, taking the blankets from her and wrapping them around Bella. A small whisper came from her blue lips; she was still unconscious, and wriggling under my arms. I moved my hands to her face and pushed her wet hair out of her eyes. "Where is everyone?" I asked, looking up at Esme.

"Alice made sure Jasper was gone; she didn't tell us what was going on, just made sure he left," She explained, out loud, looking pointedly at the blood that was slowly drying on Bella's face. "Rose..." Her eyebrows creased, and I rolled my eyes. "And Emmett followed her."

"Carlisle?"

"Working."

I nodded, and turned my face back to Bella. She was still moving, her eyebrows furrowed; there was that little crease between her eyes which I loved, so much. I rested my thumb on it, my hand across her forehead. "Shh," I whispered to her, as she moved around.

_**She doesn't look well, Edward.**_

"She's just cold," I assured Esme, not looking away from Bella. "She's going to be alright."

"Was she out in the storm?"

"Yes," I said.

"Did you check for shock?"

"She's going to be fine," I said, with the same degree of determination as before. "Esme, could you go upstairs and get some warmer clothes?" Bella's white blouse was still visible under the many blankets, and it was soaked almost to transparency. Esme nodded, and disappeared.

I ran my fingers through Bella's hair, whispering nothing at all to her, just saying quietly things which were on my mind; Esme re-entered a few seconds later, clutching a flannel and a pile of clothes, most of which, I noticed, were mine.

"She's too big for Alice's," Esme explained. "And Rose..." I nodded impatiently, standing up and giving Bella one last look before I left the room, closing the walnut door behind me. I leant against the wall in the corridor, and pinched the bridge of my nose. The storm was raging fierce outside still, the noise of the forest loud in my ears; I could hear each separate leaf as it rustled against the one next to it. I could still feel myself shaking slightly. When I closed my eyes all I could see was Bella's scared face as she hung off my hand, and all I could remember was the numb shock which had held me still. I felt disgusted with myself. Of all the times to be so pathetic, so useless, so typically _Edward_. Bella's terrified face lit up in my hand. I saw the pain in her eyes, heard her hysterical shouts, remembered the feel of her fingers as they scrabbled for my arm. I didn't want to think about what might have happened, what could so easily have happened, had I been too late. I pressed my fingers harder around my nose, trying to suppress the panic.

A few minutes later the door opened, and Esme slipped through. Her eyes searched my face, and we were both very quiet. The trees shook in the wind outside. Lightning flashed across the sky and lit the hall up for a fraction of a second.

_**Are you alright?**_ She thought, finally. I stared down at her, her ochre eyes wide and worried.

I thought about it before answering. "Ask me in the morning," I said, softly. She looked up at me, concern still in her gaze, then wrapped thin arms around my neck. I hugged her back, and then pulled away. I looked at the door.

"She had a few cuts but I've cleaned them up. She is going to be okay, Edward."

"I know," I said. Esme kissed me on the cheek, and I opened the door. I could hear the babble of her thoughts as she walked away, but I ignored them. If the last four years had taught me anything, it was to learn how to shut my ears. You didn't always want to know what was in people's thoughts.

Esme had turned on the lamp beside the red sofa, and it lit up Bella's pale little features in a dim light which robbed them of any remaining colour. I walked slowly over to her, watching emotions passing over her sleeping face, watching her eyelids flutter as her eyes moved underneath them. Esme had towel dried her hair and it lay around her head, almost black with water, and curling slightly at the ends. I knelt down beside her head and watched her sleep, curling a strand of her hair around my finger as a million thoughts rushed through my head and a million emotions bubbled through my heart.

There was relief and shock and unbelievable, overwhelming happiness. Just looking at her face, even cold and blue and wet as she was, made my heart swell and a soft smile spread across my lips. I was finding it difficult to believe that I could feel this happy; that something which had seemed forever broken had mended in a split instant.

But I couldn't escape the _guilt_. It clung to every happy thought I had. Because as I looked at her, cold and ill and small, and as I remembered her screaming after that wolf, and as I thought about her life and how she'd hated it, what resounded above it was how it was all my fault. Every misery she had had since I'd left could be blamed on me, and that was something I wasn't sure how I was going to live with.

"I'm sorry," I told her, quietly, whispering. Her eyebrows flicked down and then her face smoothed out again. She lay suddenly still, her breath still too slow, but calm. "I'm so sorry."

I looked at her for a while longer, as the storm raged outside, before I spoke again. "When you wake up, I'm going to tell you how sorry I am, and I'm going to spend the rest of my life, however long that is, trying to atone for what I did. And I'm going to tell you how much I love you. Only I won't be able to," I added, a smile twisting my lips, "Because there aren't words." I placed my arm next to her head and rested my own on it, letting the fingers of my other hand follow the lines of her face. It was older, more adult, and more beautiful than I'd ever imagined, ever remembered. Her skin was warming slightly and, after a time, her lips faded to a pale pink.

"I missed you so much," I murmured. "So much." She mumbled something and shifted in her blankets. Her hand, clutched around the sheets, pressed against my forearm. I sat and listened to her heartbeat. It was still sluggish, but slowly speeding up as she warmed. Her scent filled the room and it burned my throat, but I felt no desire, no bloodlust. Just relief. I thought how close I had been to watching her fall, and was grateful that her blood flowed, no matter how it sang.

I pushed the bridge from my mind, because every time I thought of it a surge of terror rose through me. I reached out my hand and clasped hers, trying to convince myself she was okay. I could feel her pulse under her skin, and sat, feeling it throb against my own skin for a few minutes. I whispered quietly everything I had been worrying about. I told her about fighting Rose. Told her about how angry I'd been. Told her how Carlisle had been worried about me, and how I had broken Esme's heart, slowly, over the past four years. I apologised, again and again, for fighting Jacob. I apologised for not running after her in the courtroom. I apologised for haunting her at the hospital every day. I apologised for forcing her to talk to me, and I apologised for our argument. I apologised for almost letting her fall. I tried to explain to her how all the shock and fear had welled up in me and I'd frozen, how I hadn't been able to move, how I'd never been more terrified in my life. "I'm not the brave one," I said, softly. "That was always Emmett and Jasper."

And I apologised for ever leaving in the first place. I recounted to her, as her chest rose and fell, deep and calm, how hard it had been. I told her everything I had thought, all the options I had assessed, how it had hurt. And then I apologised again and again and again.

Her eyebrows creased once more and she started to move more erratically, her mouth mumbling strange half-words that I could make no sense of. I held her hand and watched her with cautious eyes. Her lips were back to their usual colour and I watched them move.

Then a frown crossed her face and her hand squeezed mine tightly. I held hers firmly within my own. Her voice was suddenly very clear; she was begging me not to let her fall. Cold ran through me, and I shook my head, clasping her face in my hands, as she begged me again and again. "I won't," I told her, "I didn't, Bella." But she wouldn't stop. Her hands snapped out and clasped onto my arm. Her eyes were closed and they roved under her eyelids. I caressed her cheek with my fingers. "Ssh, you're safe, you're okay." The nightmare went on, her words shooting arrows through my heart. She sounded so scared.

"Don't let me fall, don't let me fall..."

"I didn't, Bella, I didn't," I said, low and fast, thumbs crossing her skin. Then suddenly she screamed and the scream went through me like a bayonet. I kissed her forehead and leaned over her, whispering in her ear.

Then her eyes snapped open and she sat up sharply, breath gasping out of her, and her arms closed around my neck. I held her against me, as she gasped in and out. "Ssh," I said, again, smoothing her wet hair around the back of her head. She started shivering again, as her hot breath fell with uneven beats onto my skin. "It was just a bad dream."

She clung to me, still struggling for breath, and I just appreciated how good it felt to have her body against mine again. Her ribs expanded and contracted as air sped in and out of her. Her nose rested in the shallow of my collarbone. "It was a dream, Bella, you're safe."

"It felt so real," she said against my jumper. I rested my cheek on her head, and waited for the panic to pass. Her breath gradually came back to her, and she relaxed against me, her body hung around me rather than clinging to me.

"Are you alright?" I whispered in her ear.

She nodded against my jumper. "You're," she began, but had to take another breath. "You're all wet, Edward."

"What?" I said, surprised. I looked down at my jumper; it was soaked through. "Oh."

She laughed softly, and I couldn't help the wild smile which lit up my face at the sound. I pulled her away, lying her back down. I replaced my arm next to her face, lowering my head parallel to hers. She smiled at me, sideways on, her fingers searching for mine. Her face was centimetres from mine; every breath of hers landed warm and sweet on my face, and every one of mine fluttered her eyelashes. Our noses were almost touching. She was still too pale.

"Are you okay?" I whispered, so quietly I could barely hear it myself. I think she lip-read.

"No," she said, as she finally found my hand and took it in her own small, warm one. "But I'm not going to think about it."

I stared at her for a moment longer, and then softly kissed her lips. They felt so soft and perfect and warm and... it was hard to pull away. Her eyes remained closed as I rested my head on my arm again. I stared at her calm, white face for a full minute. I ran my fingers over the back of her hand. I couldn't take my eyes off her. Her eyelids shivered.

"Sleeping?"

She nodded, eyes still closed. A lock of hair slowly fell across her forehead. I watched it slip across her skin. She moved her leg around under the sheets and a blanket slipped off; I put it back with my free hand, smoothing it out. My eyes returned to her face. The tiny crease had appeared back between her eyes. A small, clear tear drop bloomed from her eyelashes and dropped across her nose and onto the sofa. The guilt jarred through me one more time and my happy heart dropped a little. I knew what she was thinking. "He's going to be alright," I assured her, with no idea if it was true.

"No he isn't," she mumbled, her eyes, wet with simmering tears, opening slightly, staring at the red upholstery. Her fingers tightened around mine, interlacing. Her eyes slowly rose, moving around my face. I watched her irises. They were so deep and thoughtful and beautiful and _Bella_. "Am I a bad person?" She asked, her voice barely audible.

"No," I said, calmly, with certainty. "No, you're not. You're a wonderful, wonderful person."

She didn't look up. "Jacob's out there somewhere, and here I am, and I... I can't help feeling happier than I ever have in my whole life." Her voice was low and fast, as if she was forcing herself to say it before she lost her nerve. Her eyes locked on mine, her breath speeding up. I didn't look away, and we both were very still, waiting. Eventually I leaned in and kissed her again. I felt her hand move from mine and try to move up to my face. She winced. I pulled away, resting my forehead on her cheek, and taking her hand again.

"Careful," I breathed onto her skin. "You strained your arms too much."

"They're fine."

"You're lying," I said, smiling slightly. Being her usual suffer-in-silence self. Oh, I had missed it.

There were a few more minutes of silence, as she breathed, slow and deep, and I listened to her heartbeat, forehead still resting on her cheekbone. Her fingers stroked the back of my hand. Her breaths were the loudest thing in the room.

"Edward," she began, softly.

"Yes?" I said, raising my head and resting it my arm again. Her eyes were open, eyelashes fluttering down and up again as she blinked.

"Are you okay?" She murmured.

I stared at her. She was waiting for an answer. Breathing warm and moist, in and out. Pump pump pump went her heart. It relaxed me. "I can't really remember what okay feels like," I said, an edge of a smile on my lips. She bit her lip.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Everything."

I stared hopelessly at her, automatically reaching out to her mind for answers. There was that blank nothing I had missed so much. It was back, and infuriating me just as greatly as it had before.

"You're going to have to illuminate me."

A blush spread slowly across her face as she looked back down at the sofa surface. I couldn't help smiling at it. "I missed this," I said, my knuckles running across her reddened, warm cheeks. Even this pooling of blood, once so potent, held nothing but a burn and negative nostalgia for me.

"I'm sorry for... for what I said, the other day, when you asked... when you-"

"Don't you dare," I said, softly, quickly. "Don't, Bella. That was not your fault."

"I felt so... disgusted with myself after, so guilty, and I'm so sorry for hurting you like that-"

"It was owed, Bella," I told her, softly and quietly. "I deserved it."

"No-one deserves that," she said, and I could see the memory of pain, buried in her eyes. The glass of guilt was tapped and rang through me once more.

"And I'm sorry for what happened tonight, with the bridge-"

"Please, Bella," I said, turning my own head so as to meet her eyes at the same angle. "Stop it. I'm the one who's to do the apologising."

She stared at me for a minute, eyes quietly assessing, invisible and soundless cogs ticking away in her mind. Then, slowly, she shook her head. "No."

"No what?" I asked, growing frustrated with this lack of insight.

"I don't want you to apologise."

"What?"

She shook her head and propped herself up on her elbow; and then cried out in pain, flopping down again. I kissed her nose, stood, and propped her up against the sofa. She sat and let her arms lie dead in her lap, and I sat down next to her, trying not to think about the situation which had caused that injury. She rested her head on my shoulder, curling her legs behind her, and I wrapped my arm around her back. I could feel her body as it rose and fell with each slow, regular breath. "Explain," I said, quietly.

"I..." I looked down at her, and could see she was thinking. I held back a growl of annoyance; not being able to read her, when I so desperately wanted to... Then her eyes turned up to mine, huge and deep. "I don't want you to apologise," she murmured, her hair falling across my chest, "I just want to forget."

I looked down at her. Her fingers fidgeted on her lap, and slowly I reached down and took one of her hands in mine. I raised it to my lips and kissed it. She closed her eyes, leaning against me. I bent down and kissed her forehead, her nose, her cheek, her ear, the top of her head. I could hear her pulse speeding up, and I pressed my other hand above her heart. The vibrations rang through my hands.

She turned slightly, facing me full on. She lifted her arms, wincing, but shook her head when I began to speak. Her fingers wandered up my arms, warm through the wet cashmere of my jumper. They ran over my shoulder, around my neck, up to my cheek. She pressed both hands firmly around my face, her long, thin fingers curving around the shape of my head. Her touch was so warm, and I found my own breath getting slower. The pulse in her fingers was against my skin.

My eyes searched hers, as she gazed up at me, as though she would never look away. I watched her blink. Her hair was drying in curls around her neck, and she looked beyond beautiful. Beyond words. The sudden realisation that she was _here_, with me again, hit me. I couldn't really believe it; after all the mistakes I had made, after all my crimes and all that heartbreak and all those years convinced that I would be alone forever, that Bella was here, curled small and warm and _alive_ in my arms.

Her eyes bore up into mine, and suddenly I was grateful I couldn't read her. She was a mystery and she would always puzzle me and that was the way it was supposed to be.

"I love you," I whispered. A slow smile lit up her face, and her right hand curled around my hair and ran through it. "More than anything else in the whole world, whatever comes and whatever was. I don't know how to show you; I don't think I can. I just know that without you I was nothing and now I have you again... I could never let you go. Not in a hundred years, or a thousand, or a million. Never."

Bella seemed transfixed, staring into my eyes as though lost. Her lips were slightly parted, her eyes wide; she looked like a veritable angel. And then; "I love you, too," she said. The words set my soul alight.

The rain pattered against the window as I leant down and kissed her, moving my hands to her face, as her own small arms curled around my head. The rain pattered against the window and I kissed her and kissed her and kissed her, listening to her heartbeat as it sped up and feeling her body as it warmed up. The rain pattered against the window as she drew away to breathe, and the rain pattered against the window as I took her again. It was still pattering as I told her, over and over, that I loved her.

It was just stopping as she fell asleep in my arms. The sun was rising on a wet world and it lit her face up gold.

.

**Such a kind thought.**

**.**


	18. find

**It's raining, it's pouring  
The old man is snoring  
He went to bed and he bumped his head  
And couldn't get up in the morning.**

.

.

**A raindrop is falling from the sky. It is one amongst millions, an army of them, fleeing the wet mounting empire they have escaped. Lit up by moonlight it glows a pale silver- like a bullet- but when lightning cracks the sky open it looks like falling gold. The water inside it rolls around itself, and the raindrop spins, falling diagonally and fast, the wind blowing it forward and pushing it back. The ground below looms nearer and it falls, quick and sharp, it falls and every second brings the world closer. Every second clarifies further the dark splodges, turns them to sharp, shadowed landmarks, trees, buildings, and the raindrop collides with others and grows larger, and it's so heavy now that the raging wind has no effect. Down it goes, determined and sharp and swift, and all around it is hail and wind, and the night air is cold. The smell of the earth hits, fresh and green and wet and alive, and the ground grows ever nearer; wood, forest, rolling hills that grow and shrink like surging waves. The raindrop spins and turns and falls and falls, and the ground is nearer and nearer and now we can see tree tops, green grass, and down, down-**

**And smash. It lands on a bared tooth and splashes up into a haired face; a dark shape which moves so fast along the ground it is no more than an angry hiss. The animal glances its way over the wet, stormy world and the only mark left behind are the patches of flattened grass, and even those marks fade as the grass grumbles and straightens itself up. The animal breathes fast and shallow, the air going in cold and coming out warm and wet. Its hair is wet and clumped, and slick with rain, with droplets slipping off and falling behind; natural confetti. In and out, in and out, wet and moist and fast and struggling, fast and struggling because how can you breathe when you have no lungs?**

**And on and on it runs, or _he_ runs, because we know who and what this animal, this wolf, is. He is running and it doesn't look like he's ever going to stop, because what is there to stop for anymore? Over this hill, down, over the next, breathe in, breathe out, and that should be enough, that should be enough to keep him distracted. The city looms on the horizon, dead and black and blurred by rain. He barely even notices. Something is cold and sharp where his heart should be and he thinks maybe someone has ripped it out and put a rock there instead. And then he stops thinking and he concentrates on not thinking and he runs.**

**He runs through the smug, dark little suburbs, watched by cold square windows in cold square houses. Across the smooth, flat tarmac which blends the heart of the country into the veins of the city. Rain falls hard and fast, like spit on your face, like a power washer, like a shower on full power and set to cold, and he blinks rain from dark eyes. His brows are set, casting shadows over a face which could not be darker. Four feet, flying along a ground which is smooth, smooth, smooth, smooth; then rough, as he hits the real outskirts, the real suburbs, the dirty and ragged hem of Knives. Potholes, flooded streets punctured with potholes, little bullet marks in the skin of the city.**

**Streetlamps are dead, houses are dead. All the lights are off, and lightning flashes across the sky once more. The wolf's hair clings to his skin and it feels like he's trapped in it, but he can't escape because this _is_ his escape, and he runs and runs and runs. Through the outskirts, past all the closed up burger shops and closed-up tattoo parlours and closed-up sex shops, past the girl with the flashlight puking into the drains. She doesn't see him, and even if she did he would be a blur, and that's almost what he wants to be. But not quite because he wants to be nothing, nothing at all, and the streets blend into one long dark wet flooded street and the water splashes up as he displaces it with his feet and it seems like the whole world is spitting at him and he is wet and cold and his heart is missing and he glares and blocks everything and he runs and he runs and he runs and runs and runs and runs. A man sat on the cold street with a wet blanket and wet skin and a wet soul sees a wolf through whiskey-blurred eyes and he finally decides that he has gone mad, after all, just like people are always telling him. He raises a bottle to his lips and damns the world to hell.**

**Little does he know that one of us is already there.**

…

I wasn't dreaming but I wasn't awake. I was sort of floating, letting my mind wander, riding one train of thought then jumping over onto another, sticking my head out the window and refusing to wake up. I wrapped fingers loosely around sleep and asked him not to leave.

The world swam closer and I yawned slightly, snuggling tighter against a cool, smooth something, tightening my fingers around a cold... something else. A hand. My head was resting on a shoulder, my back against a chest, and two solid arms were wrapped comfortingly around me. I mumbled something and yawned once more, pressing my eyes shut and breathing into a shirt.

"Hello," a low voice pierced my mind like an arrow, soft, amused. I frowned. Something smooth and cold brushed across my face, and I pulled my free hand up, catching the something before it could go away. It was another hand. I stretched my own out, and touched it palm to palm; slid my fingers between these long, thin ones, pressed my fingertips against this smooth, marble-like skin. My hand tingled, pleasantly, tingled like electricity turned down low. My eyes opened blearily.

It wasn't dark and wasn't light; everything around me was lit up in a dim reddish glow. A pale, softly glimmering hand was wrapped around mine, and I looked at it, turning it around, staring at the bones and the knuckles and the nails, staring at the even, pale, slightly glowing and ceaselessly cream skin. I frowned again.

"Am I asleep?" I said, quietly.

"I think you're awake," the velvet voice spoke again, coming from somewhere above me, with the same soft, amused tone. "You're showing all the symptoms."

I shook my head, moving my hand around and watching the contrast between our skins in the dim light which filtered through the room. "I'm pretty sure I'm still dreaming."

The pale thumb glanced across the back of my own hand, and I closed my eyes, a shiver running across it, a tiny murmur of the power that tingled in the air about me. There was a silence as the thumb moved, back and forth, back and forth, and I couldn't think, my mind locked on the shivering of my skin. "I'm pretty sure you're not," the voice said again, and I knew who it was but I refused to admit it, because when I woke up it would hurt me. "I don't feel at all like dream. I feel quite real."

I relaxed my neck, leaning back again, my eyes still shut, and let his thumb wander. "Maybe you're a delusional dream."

"Maybe I'm real."

I shook my head. His fingers loosened from between mine and moved down my hand, holding my wrist, sliding up my arm to the edge of my clothing. His fingertips pattered across my skin and a loud sigh rushed from between my lips. He chuckled slightly, and carried on lightly tracing shapes onto my skin, sending chills up my arm. I curled my legs up close to my body, and I felt damp jeans beneath me. He wrote my name on my arm; I felt him swirl the letters I to N. My eyes stayed closed and I refused to wake up.

"I'm still asleep, definitely," I said, not even thinking about my words, just not wanting this to go away. I felt so at home, so safe, so... happy, almost, maybe, if this was what happiness felt like. I couldn't quite remember.

"I'm almost certain you're not."

"You're not a dream?"

"As far as I'm aware." There was a silence as the whispers of electricity ran up and down my arm. "I could be a character from a nightmare, though. That would be understandable."

"You're never in my nightmares, silly," I said, not meaning to admit to myself who it was, but not being able to stop. I pressed my cheek against his chest. "That's what makes them nightmares. Except when you're made of rain, but then I don't think that was really you..."

"You're rambling."

"Mhmm."

His arms tightened around me and I felt cold lips against the top of my head.

"Maybe I'm dead," I said, trying to reason it out.

"Don't say that," the voice was suddenly hurried, uneven, fragile almost. "I'd rather be a dream, please."

I was silenced for a moment. "Well, think about it," I said, finally, as I felt his head move forward and his forehead lean against my skin. His fingers wandered up my arm, squeezing it gently, travelling up and over my shoulder, along my neck. There were those little sparks, little sparks of _something_ that flew from my skin and into the air, then into me as I inhaled; those little sparks which made my brain mist over and set my heart beating a million times a second. "It would make sense. Only I don't really understand why I'm in heaven, because I sure have lied a lot. And I've not been to church. And I've blasphemed. And is it adultery to sleep with someone you don't love?"

"You aren't dead, Bella," the voice insisted, quickly, speaking into my hair. His fingers brushed against my neck, under my face, across my cheek, thumb glancing across my closed eyelids.

I was quiet for a moment, thinking hard, trying to remember. Things began to flicker across my mind, dark, cold, wet, painful things, and when I spoke again my voice was hesitant. Scared. "I remember a bridge."

A short, bitter laugh pushed breath through my hair. "I remember a bridge, too."

"So I am dead."

"No, you aren't."

I paused, thinking things I did not want to think. "Did I jump?" I asked, finally, the terror in my heart leaking into my voice. There was a silence.

"You fell," he said, hesitantly, as if he was trying to convince himself of the same thing.

A world of memories rushed back into my head and I screwed up my eyes, turning my head and pressing my face against his chest, hard. "I don't think I want to remember anything else," I whispered into his shirt. He stroked my hair, and curled his arm around me.

"I don't want you to, either," he said, and I think he was speaking to himself. I curled my fingers next to my face and pressed against him, and he held me tight as I tried to lock everything away in that box which had served so useful over the past years. His arms were heavy and protective around me. He leaned down and placed his lips next to my ear. "It's okay," he whispered. "I love you," he added, almost like an afterthought. I smiled.

"Edward," I said, softly, out loud.

"Yes?" he answered. I smiled again.

"Just checking." He laughed, and released me. I sat up and rubbed my eyes, looking up into his face. His eyes were dark, a metallic brown, and his hair was sticking up all over the place, unruly and perfect. His skin glowed slightly; I turned around and saw a closed red curtain, which stained the sunlight as it seeped through.

"Storm's over," he said, softly, staring at the curtain too.

"Let's not talk about the storm."

"Let's not," he agreed, smoothing my hair and resting his chin on my shoulder. "Hungry?"

"No," I said, absently, my default response.

"I'm going to make you eat anyway."

I quietly laughed, turning around to face him. He grinned at me, kissed my cheek, curled his fingers around my chin, fingertips on the skin of my lips. I breathed out and he closed his eyes as my breath rushed over his fingers. Neither of us spoke for a long while, but all around were unsaid words that were nevertheless clearly heard.

I turned my head around fully, and pressed our noses together. He smiled his one sided smile and raised one eyebrow. "Now, what could you be doing that for?" he asked, reaching up and pressing a cold palm against my cheek. His breath fell cool and steady over my mouth and I parted my lips, eyes locked on his, breathing it in. He reached his other arm and wrapped it around my back, pulling me closer. I curled my fingers around his shoulders, noticing the dull ache in my muscles but dismissing it.

I watched his eyes, an inch from mine. They were startlingly white all around his irises, like liquid porcelain, like china. And right in the centre and staring unblinkingly at me, large, deep, round irises. I followed the copper fibres from the edge, my eyes travelling along a hundred strands of colour; light and almost hazel, then copper, bronze, brown; then they disappeared into the black hole of his iris. His eyes were huge and wet and looked almost like they were made of a fragile, thin glass, like a single tap would shatter them. Long, sweeping eyelashes cast bending shadows over the surface. When I looked deeper I could see my own face reflected in his eyes, pale and thin and shaded in the dark of the room.

"What are you thinking?" he asked, softly. His fingers pattered on my lips, and I felt them give under his cool touch. My breaths stuttered, and then came quick and fast as my breathing sped up. He blinked, slow and purposeful, and tilted his head slightly. His nose slid off mine and the tip of it wandered down to my cheek. I watched his eyes as he moved, my heartbeat pounding through me. His fingers moved from my lips and cupped my face, tilting my head upwards. I shut my eyes. "Hey?" he asked. I struggled to remember what he'd said.

"Nothing," I answered, truthfully. He smiled, although I could only tell from the way his eyes ceased slightly; he was so close that they were all I could see. He moved closer, his lips glancing across my cheek, cold and glassy. Breath rushed through my lips and I saw his eyelashes flicker in the slight gust. My fingers tightened around his shoulders as his lips fell from my cheek, across to the edge of my mouth, and then finally touched upon my own. All the remaining breath in my body sped out, and I pressed my eyes tight shut. My hands released his shoulders and ran up his neck, around his face, around the back of his head, and his hands were speeding over my shoulders, down my back, around my waist, gripping me close. His own breathing was thick and fast, and his lips moved almost aggressively against mine, pressing himself against me as I clung to him, trying to memorise every part of him with my hands. I lost my fingers in his hair for a moment, meeting them at the top of his head and resting my elbows in the nooks of his collarbones. I rose to my knees and he to his and I couldn't think of anything but how my heart was pounding and how close he was and how everything was _right_, down to the smell of him, to the sound of his breath, the feel of his eyelashes as they tickled my cheek.

I had to pull away, take in some oxygen before I collapsed, and he wrapped his arms around my shoulders, smiling against my forehead as I rested under his chin. "I keep forgetting," he murmured, "I keep forgetting to be careful." My chest rose and fell, fast and shallow, and I smiled. I pressed my lips against his neck and told his skin that I didn't mind at all.

He knelt back down and I fell with him, lying against his body once more. His fingers tangled in my hair and he ran them through it, curling strands around his fingers and then rolling them off, watching as the tight spirals fell and unwound. I waited for my heartbeat to slow down.

"What are you thinking now?" he asked me, his lips still against my forehead. I smiled.

"Nothing."

"Still?"

"Nothing at all." I curled my hand around his neck and kissed under his chin. "Where is everybody?"

"My family?"

I nodded.

"Esme's in the kitchen," he whispered, his lips moving against my temple. "Carlisle's in his office. Alice and Jasper are in the library. Rose is off somewhere, I personally hope it's hell. Emmett probably went after her. "

I nodded, slowly, slightly surprised; I felt so alone, as if we were the only people for miles and miles around. I couldn't imagine other people outside this little bubble of heaven I was floating in.

"Do you want to go and say hello?"

I was quiet for a very long time.

"You don't have to," he said, moving back slightly, his fingers running away from my face, threading through my hair. I rolled my head around and leant against his shoulder, staring at the white wallpaper.

"I just... I kind of like being alone," I said, softly, resting a palm against his chest. "Until I'm sure you're real, at least." I listened to him as he slowly breathed in and out, felt his ribs rise and fall under my fingers. "And I'm not good at _people_," I added.

"Not good at people?" he repeated, confused. "Bella," he kissed my head, "It's just my parents, and Alice and Jasper, you know them."

"No I don't," I said, fiddling with a button of his shirt. "Not really. Not anymore."

"Alice?"

"Jasper, Carlisle, Esme," I finished. "That's three whole entire people who I have nothing but awkward conversation to make with."

He ran his fingers through my hair and said nothing, and after a while of silence I had to pull back and check his face. His eyebrows were pulled down and his lips were set, and there was something in his eyes; something haunted, dark.

"Are you angry?" I whispered, trying to read his expression. His eyebrows softened and he shook his head, smiling down at me, sweeping a strand of hair behind my ear with a long, thin finger.

"Of course not," he said.

"What is it?"

"Nothing."

I stared dubiously up at him, not one bit convinced. But he didn't expand, and although it bothered me I didn't want to press him. He cocked his head at me. "Breakfast," he said, with an air of business.

"What time is it?" I asked, reaching up and curving my hand through the hair behind his ear. My muscles twinged and I winced, and he caught it, reaching an arm up and lowering my own.

"Eleven." He kissed me on the forehead and swung his body around, landing both feet on the floor. He tipped me off his lap and I stood up and stretched, turning around to him and yawning. "What would you like?" he asked.

"What?"

"Food."

"I'm not hungry."

"I don't care."

I laughed, and rubbed my eyes. "Toast?"

"Excellent. Esme left you some clothes," he said, and I followed his gaze to the pile of folded clothing on the end of the sofa. "I'll go and get you something and you can get dressed." He looked down at me, then lent forward, resting his forearms on my shoulders. I looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. He chuckled.

"We're going out," he said, in reply to my questioning expression.

"Where?"

He merely grinned a secretive smile and shook his head. "Somewhere."

"Where?" I asked again, standing up on my tiptoes to seem taller. He laughed at me, a carefree and happy sound which shot tingles through my heart.

"Get dressed," he said, still laughing. "I'll be back in a minute."

I stared up at him. "Promise?" I said, trying to be jokey but sincerity leaking through into my voice. He looked down at me, and that look in his eyes suddenly hung in the corners again, like dust which needed to be blown away.

"I promise," he said, and I couldn't decipher his tone.

"What is it?" I asked, again.

"Nothing."

"Edward?"

"I'll be precisely one minute." He kissed my forehead, and headed to the door. I took his hand as he passed, and he looked back at me, smiling. "I really am coming back, Bella. Just don't you sneak off while I'm gone."

I smiled weakly. "Promise."

The door opened and shut and I was alone.

I got changed quickly, pulling on clothes which weren't mine and smelled distinctly wrong, and no matter how I tried to stop it, now that Edward had gone there was only one face in my mind. I stared at the wooden door and waited for him to come back, so I could wipe Jacob from my head once more.

**…**

**He was going to have to stop soon and he knew it; his legs trembled with every movement and his breath was shallow and fast. He'd been running for hours and hours and hours; but the night was ebbing and with it his strength. He could feel his mind bubbling away inside his head, bursting with thoughts and feelings limited only by his current form. His heart spluttered and his eyelids fluttered but he ran on, wobbling and shaking and slowing, his path wavering from side to side. As he slowed the trees around grew more focused; and sparser. He could nearly see the sky through them. Light leaked around the trunks and snuck up on him from behind, catching him by surprise. Didn't the world know that it was over? Why was it carrying on? He couldn't see the point of the sun rising when it lit a world with nothing in it.**

**The trees lessened, and the light intensified, and his eyes ached and twitched and his legs shook and he wasn't running now, he was stumbling, and the world wavered in front of him, like someone was holding it and shaking it, shaking it hard. He blinked, going forward and desperately not thinking, not thinking anything, anything at all, at all.**

**He didn't know where he was. The forest was gone now and he could hardly see; the sun was a huge explosion in his eyes, which blocked and blurred everything else. He stumbled forward, his front legs giving way, and he tipped sideways. Dark eyes clamped shut as he struggled back upright, shaking out dew-tipped hair and stepping forward. His mind swirled. It was like his eyelids were lined with lead, and were being pulled down with the weight; he struggled to keep them open. Forwards. He had to go forwards. He had to get away.**

**Pump pump pump went his heart, fast and weak and shallow. His head flopped down and watched the grass beneath him. His ears caught the sound of waves, a rushing, calming sort of sound, and he clung to it, walking blindly towards it. The grass beneath his feet was not giving way to sand, though; how much further was there to go? There were rocks beneath him, in between the blades, and they dug into his thick skin. Pump, pump, pump-pump-pump-pump. Breathe in, breathe out. His eyelids slipped.**

**The ground started declining, sloping down, down, and he practically fell down it.**

**Unbeknown to him, an edge lurked a few metres away, where the ground stopped and was replaced by nothing but space. Space to fall into, fall down, down down into the rolling waves which had calmed him so much, called to him. He inched towards it, unaware, fumbling feet and flickering eyes and harsh, shallow, uneven breath. His whole form shivered with fatigue. The ledge grew nearer, and he stumbled closer. He wanted to reach the sea. He had good memories of the sea.**

**His front foot shuffled forward and set down, expecting to be met with ground. Instead there was nothing, and his spluttering heart skipped a beat as his body fell forward. His head curled under his chest and he fell, hitting his skull against the side of the cliff, spinning around in the air as he fell. And then he was no longer a wolf, he was a man, a cold, tired, naked man. His eyes were closed and his face was colourless and his heart was sick.**

**He would have liked to die in that sea, to let those waves swallow him and gulp and close their mouths on a world which was dead to him.**

**It's almost a shame he didn't.**

**.**


	19. your

**O, that this too too solid flesh would melt  
Thaw and resolve itself into a dew!  
Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd  
His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! God!  
How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable,  
Seem to me all the uses of this world!  
Fie on't! ah fie! 'tis an unweeded garden,  
That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature  
Possess it merely. That it should come to this!**

**.**

**((did you see David Tennant do that ^^?**

******www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=JXiykFI5uJM**))

**.**

**He wakes up on the beach, with the sea mocking him; surging around his body and then falling back, pushing gritty sand up against him then dragging it down his skin. He takes in a breath and the air meets water, and he rolls over and coughs, his mouth dry and his throat raw. The sun burns a sharp hole in the sky and he pulls a wet fist in front of his eyes, water blocking his throat, heaving and coughing and spraying it back into the sea. His chest is burning and he feels heavy, like a dead weight. He tries to move his legs but they are sticks of iron.**

**His hair is knotted around the back of his head, and he squeezes his eyes shut against the rude glare of day, running fingers through wet, salt-coarsened strands, blinking and trying to work out why and what the hell.**

**And then he remembers why and what the hell and he wishes the sea had pressed him under its finger and held him there.**

**He feels his chest crumple and he sits up, eyes snapping open, hands digging into the sand. He looks out to the sea, the rolling, roaring, mounting, falling, retching, spitting sea, and he sees nothing of it. He sees only brown eyes and brown hair and a soft pale face, and his heart explodes, shards of it landing deep in every essential part of himself. He's breaking down, bit by bit by bit, and he can't stop it, can't help it, can't see or think or hear or do or be anymore. His fists are full of sand and his eyes are blinded by the sun and he feels hollow, empty, and the hollow emptiness is on fire and burning what is left of him.**

**Real loss only occurs when you lose something that you love more than yourself, they say. Real love, they say, is when you uncap your soul, they say, uncap it and pour it into someone else. But what do you do when they've run off with your soul, and you're drying up? When you've run out of what you need to live on and you're desiccated and cracked and brittle and you need them to come back so that you can move without crumbling?**

**The water curls up around his feet and the sun glares down, and he rolls over and presses his face into the sand and focuses on keeping himself from breaking apart and drifting away into the sea, like so many pieces of battered driftwood. Why? he thinks, Why? **

**I never saw this coming.**

**.**

It's strange, when you think about it, how people can paint pictures and compose music and write poems, and we all say how beautiful these things are; but when you look out of your window, or up at the sky, at anything real and pulsing and alive, you know nothing manmade could ever compare. You could stare at a painting for maybe half an hour; but you could watch the world go by for your entire life and never get bored. There's a veiled vitality, a beating, pounding heart behind the earth and everything in it; and no matter the degree of skill, it can never be captured by paintbrush or piano or pen.

I knelt down and reached out my hand, laying it flat on top of the water and moving it side to side, watching the ripples and catching them before they disappeared. The water lay deep and cold underneath my hand. I could see smooth rocks under the surface, and I pressed my hands underneath. Water flooded up and around my fingers and I traced the silky, hard surfaces; they felt the same as you expected a snake to feel, until you felt one.

The sun bore down on my head and warmed my hair, laughed on my skin. It seemed the storm had broken through the defences of winter and summer was running through open gates, shaking off rain-soaked hair and surging through a brightened world. There was no trace of wetness in the air today, no bitter winds. All was calm and quiet and hot.

"What do you think?" a velvet voice whispered in my ear.

I glanced up, my eyes scanning the scene around me. The lake spread out from the tips of my fingers for at least another half mile. The surface of it looked like a piece of satin which had been thrown; it rippled and fell and rose in slight, delicate fashions, long undulations spread across the length and breadth of it. On the south bank I could see the peaks of the other rises, huge and majestic, like God lumped the earth down and left it there. They were dark and grey and domineering and I was quite glad that they were far away; the shadows they cast across the earth around them were intimidating. Sheets of evergreens lined their sides, and they were still in the breezeless air, light green in the brightness of the day.

The sky above was blue and full of mounting white clouds, and the sun shone clear and intense; I could see it reflected in the water and I reached out, trying to grasp it. My fingers ran across the surface and split the sun into wavering fragments.

Behind us was the steep slope of the rise, and somewhere in the distance I knew I could see Knives. I didn't turn around. I looked forward, along the glassy top of the lake, my eyes following the edge, breathing in the fresh air and feeling the warmth on my face, my hair twisting around in the slight breeze.

Edward knelt down beside me, and I pulled my hand out of the water, shaking away the droplets and taking my jumper off. He took it from me and folded it, resting it on the grass behind us. Water dribbled down my arm, and I smiled, leaning back on my knees.

Edward took my hand absently in his and looked down at it with an unfocused gaze. I wondered what he was thinking about. His skin was glimmering in the sunlight, and I reached out a finger and ran it through the air around him, through the rainbow reflections coming off his skin.

"It's going to take some getting used to again," I said. He laughed softly, his face lighting up further, his teeth looking white and deceptively friendly.

I watched the light as my fingers ran through the air, and then pressed them down upon his face. He closed his eyes as I ran them over his skin, watching it give ever so slightly under my touch. The sun was glaring down straight at him and it was so... otherworldly. Beautiful. He didn't look like he was made of marble; he looked like he was made from the glittering sheen of frozen snow. My fingers looked almost tanned next to his skin.

My eyes fell on my ring finger and I stopped; my heart, which had been lightly tapping away in my chest, groaning and thudding regular and dull again. I dropped my hand, looking away.

"What is it?" he asked, opening his eyes and looking down at me.

"Nothing," I said.

"Bella?"

"Nothing," I said, again, looking down at the grass and then back up into his face, not really able to look away from him for too long. "Do other people come up here much?" I asked, changing the subject.

Edward stared at me for a few seconds longer, questions pouring from his eyes. His brows set and he look in a short breath, looking at me, holding it; then letting it out, relaxing his features. He glanced around him. "Not really. It's a long way up."

"It feels high."

He nodded. "It's one of the highest peaks around the valley. All the rain collects up here, and then it dribbles down the side of the hill and meets in the river at the bottom."

"It's really beautiful," I said, glancing up at the sky and wincing at the sharpness of the sun. I blinked and a red blob appeared in front of my eyes.

"It's alright," Edward said, smiling at me. I looked at him in surprise, and he chuckled at my puzzled expression. "It suffers slightly by comparison."

I raised my eyebrows at him. "Shut up."

He laughed, and reached his arms around me, grabbing me around the shoulders and pulling me against him. "I will not shut up," he said, craning his head around my neck and kissing under my ear, while I laughed in resignation. "I'm not ever going to shut up, not when things concern you." He reached up a hand and turned my chin, and we kissed for a few sun-warmed seconds. My heart rose and murmured happily, my hair wafting over his shoulder. He snuck an arm around my waist and held me close, drawing away and looking down at me. "You're lovely when you're happy," he said, softly.

"You don't look so bad yourself," I told him, watching his skin for a while. It was odd that although it shimmered like it did his eyes were still brighter.

"Used to it yet?" He asked, moving his shimmering hand over my shoulder, watching my eyes.

"Nope." I curled around completely and kissed his cheek. It felt just as smooth as always, and it glimmered under my lips.

"Still strange?"

"Sure is."

"Can you get used to it?"

"Definitely not. I'm afraid you're simply too weird and I'm going to have to leave."

"Funny."

"I am."

He laughed and fell back, and I fell on top of him, grinning down at his face. He spread his arms out wide and fiddled with the grass between his fingers. I rolled off him and lay back on the ground, the blades beneath me tickling my back under my shirt. Edward curled his arm around my shoulders and I stared up at the sky, watching the huge billowing clouds drifting across it. They looked so clean and far away. I sighed and closed my eyes, letting the sun warm my face, laying my arms out above my head and feeling the warmth on my bare skin. My arm tickled as the last of the lake water was dried from it.

"You know, you're right. It is nice up here," Edward murmured beside me.

"You sound like you never realised before," I replied, barely opening my lips. I ran my fingers through the grass, and even the earth was hot.

"I haven't. I never stopped long enough to appreciate the view." I listened to the noise of the world about me, little tiny nameless noises that built up to a sound that was almost like silence, but louder. The air smelt of sun and warmth and water and plants and life. "And it hasn't been summer in a long while." He sighed. "In more ways than one."

"Meaning?" I asked, my eyes opening, closing again as they were hit by the brightness of day, squinting, and growing accustomed to the light.

"Meaning it's felt like four years of winter. Meaning I couldn't enjoy anything without you."

I frowned, and propped my head up on my arm, elbow digging into the ground. He was lying on the grass, one leg straight and the other bent at the knee. I stared down at his glistening face. His eyes were closed and his face was blank and peaceful, his hair falling around his head in bronze clusters, the sun lighting it up almost gold.

"Hey," I said, tapping the end of his nose with my finger, splitting the light. "Wake up."

His eyes snapped open, still coppery. "I don't sleep."

"I know."

"I can give you a vampire refresher course, if you like."

"Not needed." The wind blew gently across the ground and made my shirt flutter, made my hair swing slightly to the left. "No sleep, weird skin, undead, random Marvel-comic like super powers, blood drinkers. I think I'm good." I ran my fingers through his hair, leaning over his face and kissing his forehead. "Four years of winter," I said, leaning back and watching his face again. His eyes followed me. "That sucks."

"It does suck," he said, and I laughed. The world sounded silly coming from his mouth. "But I'm alright now."

I smiled down at him, and he let go of the blade of grass between his fingers and reached up to my face. He ran a cool fingertip around my chin, over my lips, up and over my nose, across my forehead. "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?" he said lightly, teasingly.

I smiled. "No. Definitely not."

"Though art more lovely and more temperate," he persisted, propping himself up slightly and seeming very pleased to have found something that would definitely annoy me. I could feel a blush tingling at the edges of my face, and shook my head, laughing.

"You only think I'm temperate because your skin is the average temperature of a commercial freezer. Most people think I'm perpetually cold."

He laughed. "I remember. It always amused me. You feel so warm; I never understood what people meant."

I shrugged. We were quiet for a few seconds, wandering private roads of thought. He smiled after a minute or so, his lips parting. "Rough winds do shake the darling buds of may," he said, laughing as I began to roll my eyes. "And summer's lease hath all too short a date."

"Well then," I said, leaning closer, "You'd better stop comparing me to it."

He chuckled, enjoying himself. "But Bella, thy eternal summer shall not fade," he said, in a 'Duh' sort of voice.

"I'll fade your eternal summer," I warned. He stared at me for a moment, and then burst out laughing. "What?" I protested, confused.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did you not hear what you just said?" He asked, still laughing.

I blushed. "What?"

"You can't smacktalk, Bella."

"Shut up."

He smiled up at me, his eyes twinkling. "The lady doth protest too much, methinks," he said, the latter part of his sentence stuttered through laughter as I glared at him and rolled onto his chest, hovering my hand above his mouth. His ribs rose and fell below me, rose, fell, rose again.

"I'm warning you," I said, raising my eyebrows and hoping I looked menacing. Laughter shook his chest, wobbling me.

"Friends-" he started, and I clamped my hand down on his mouth. He laughed more, and spoke through my skin, a muffled voice telling Romans and countrymen to lend him their ears.

"You've stopped making sense," I said, trying not to laugh at him, tensing my lips to stop a smile spreading across them.

To be or not to be leaked through my fingers, and I removed my hands and pressed my lips against his. He smiled against my mouth, and rolled us over, kneeling over my body and pressing his lips against mine, running his hands through my hair, his entire body hovering above me, trapping me between him and the ground. I curled my fingers around his shoulders, ran them along his arms.

He broke the kiss, and I looked up at him, heaving air into my lungs, my chest rising and falling. We stayed like that for a long while, as I caught my breath and he ran the back of his hand over my face, brushing my hair away and searching my expression with his eyes.

I spoke again after a minute or two. "Before..." he frowned, moving over to lie by my side and look over at me.

"Yes?"

"This morning. Back at your house."

"What about it?"

"You kept..." I searched my mind for the right words. "I don't know. Being all quiet and thoughtful, and there were these looks that crossed your face." He tightened his lips but otherwise his face remained composed. "What was it?"

He looked down at me, curling my hair around his index finger. "Let's talk about it later."

"Let's talk about it now."

"We're happy now."

"We'll still be happy later."

"There are other things we could talk about," he said, slowly.

"Like?"

"Like the reason you dropped your hand from my face when we first got here."

I went red and glanced automatically at the ring around my finger. "Oh."

"Shall we talk about that later?"

"I don't want to talk about it at all," I replied, quietly. There was a long silence. I listened to the water lapping softly against the bank.

"Bella," he said, softly, and I looked up at him. The sun was in the corner of my eyes and I squinted. The breeze ruffled my blouse again. Edward was staring down at me, his eyebrows tense. "Do you really want to know?"

"I want to know why you're sad," I said. A cloud passed over the sun and Edward's skin stopped glowing. The air was suddenly cool, dropping in temperature the way the weather does in the first fragile steps of summer. I shivered and he reached behind him, grabbed my jumper and sat up, laying it over my shoulders. "Thanks," I said, sitting up as well. I turned my head to face him, watching his expression as he stared down at me. The wind picked up and blew his hair about.

"I just..." he began, watching me. The sun peeked out and his skin lit up again; the dark shadow lifted from the ground, and I narrowed my eyes against the sudden glare. I rested my hands over his, where they lay on the grass, my skin refracting the rainbow-like rays. He looked from me to our hands and back again before speaking. "It's that I can see what I did to you in every move you make. And it breaks my heart."

He stared down at me, waiting for me to respond. He couldn't seem to let go of this, even though I'd already set it behind us. I bit the inside of my lip, searching for a way to make him understand me. Smiling weakly at him I shook my head. "I told you I'd forgiven you for that," I tried.

"You shouldn't have," he said, a fraction of a second after I had finished speaking.

"Why not?"

"Because..." he stared at me, searching for words, eyes wide. "Because. Because I broke your heart and abandoned you and condemned you to a life you hated. Because that isn't the sort of thing you should just forgive."

I shrugged. "It's over now."

"No it isn't," he said, quietly, his eyes flashing to my ring and back. I bit my lip and looked away, casting my eyes over the surface of the lake. The sun lit the tips of the water up gold, and the shadows of the clouds travelled huge and grey over the landscape. The air was warm again and I pulled the jumper from my shoulders and set it down on the grass.

"What do you want me to say?" I asked the lake.

"I don't know," Edward replied. "Are you angry?"

"Not anymore."

"You were."

"Not really," I said, looking down at my fingers in the grass. "I was angry at myself, more than anything."

"Why?"

"Because..." I took hold of a piece of grass between my fingers and gently pulled it, so the long white stem slid smoothly from the green stub of casing around the roots. I held it in front of my eyes and twisted it around my finger. "Because I thought I hadn't been enough for you. And I kept making mistakes. It was easier to blame all my failures on you."

There was a long silence. The air got warmer and the world was very bright and alive. I waited for him to speak but he didn't; after a while I turned and looked at him.

He was looking down at me, and his face was twisted; his eyes dark and shadowed by furrowed brows, his lips pressed tightly together and his face paler than before, almost translucent. I could see the pain in his eyes. It didn't belong in this happy world I was in.

"Edward," I said, reaching out and squeezing his hand. "Hey, come on. We're together again now, right?"

"I shouldn't have left."

"You thought you were doing what was best."

"I was stupid."

"Sure, but everyone has stupid moments."

He ran his hands through his hair and looked at the grass, the lake, the hills in the distance; and back at me. His expression was still tortured.

"I've forgiven you," I reminded him, smiling, hoping it would be infectious. He bit his lip, and cupped my face in his cold hand. "I really have. I wish," I said, smiling slightly and pushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead, "I wish you could read my mind. You'd see right away."

"I know that you have," he said, bitterly. "You shouldn't, but I know you have."

"So what's the problem?" I asked, confused.

He looked down at me with deep eyes. "I don't think I can forgive myself."

I watched him for a few more seconds, and sighed. "Do you want me to be mad at you?"

"No. Yes."

I reached up a hand and slapped him across the face. It hit with a loud crack and I cursed, pulling away and rubbing my palm on my jeans. The shock of impact burned my joints and I screwed up my face against the throbbing. I'd forgotten how _hard_ vampires were. "There," I said, shaking my fingers out. "Now we can move on."

Edward stared down at me, eyes wide; he looked so shocked that I couldn't help but chuckle. He stared down at me, at my hand, back to my eyes; and then, slowly, a sly, one-sided smile crept along his face.

"You're not supposed to smile when somebody hits you," I said. He brought my aching hand to his lips and kissed it, still chuckling.

"You know I love you, don't you?" He said.

I looked up into his eyes and nodded, smiling. "You have mentioned it."

"I wish I could show you how much."

"I already know," I said. He chuckled and shook his head.

"You couldn't."

"I know how I feel about you, and it can't be much different," I said, running my hands up his neck and around his face. "You don't even feel like a different person; it's like you're part of me."

His eyes softened with some unfathomable emotion, and he leaned forward and kissed the tip of my nose. "Is your hand okay?" he asked, softly.

"Is your face okay?"

He chucked, and moved his head to mine, kissing me again. He moved his lips against my own, taking my hands in his and running cool fingers over the back of them. When I drew away for breath his eyes stayed closed, and he looked so beautiful that I had to kiss him again. He released my hands and his own wandered down my back and around my waist and I could feel his cool touch though the thin silk of my blouse. I pressed closer, moving faster, breaths quicker and shallower, my hands running up his legs and over his chest and around his shoulders, and I wouldn't have stopped had he not pulled away.

"We have to be careful," he reminded me, and I groaned, flinging my arms around his neck and hugging him close.

"I'm too happy to be careful."

"I'm too happy not to be."

He kissed the top of my head. I stared over his shoulder.

A long uprooted tree lay across the side of the lakeside, the top of it sticking into the water, ugly branches poking out of the smooth surface like barbed wire caught in your clothes. The storm last night had been barely visible when we'd stepped out this morning; the world had smelt fresh and new, like it had just been washed, and except for the piles of wood and the trees which had leant against each other in the forest, it seemed like nothing had happened. I preferred it that way. I looked away from the dead trunk.

"I love you," I whispered into his ear. He pulled me away from him and I looked up into his face. It shimmered and a smile split it wide, like a dawning sun, breaking open the blue wrapper of a new day. His eyes lit up.

We can say that statues and paintings and sketches and buildings are beautiful. We can listen to sonatas and arabesques and run fingers over keys and draw strings over strings, and say that it fuels our soul. We can read Hardy and Byron and Tennyson and we can see again the wonders of our world when they are merely written down on an unassuming page. But I would forsake it all just to look into these eyes. Just to look into these deep, ever-changing but still constant eyes. Just to feel these hands in mine, feel this touch on my cheek, these lips against my own. Feel that, at last, finally, after everything, all was right again.

**.**

**She's seen what is to come and it's time, she doesn't want it to be but it's time, and she opens the front door and closes it again with a set look of cold determination. She has known for too long; she should have said before, she should have said while they had sat on that hill and she had seen it for the first time.**

**What's in the bag? Jasper asks her. She shakes her head and turns up the stairs, going slowly, wandering her hands over the bare red bricks of the wall. She can sense his eyes on her but she doesn't stop and she hits the first floor, turns around the banisters and carries on up. The plastic bag in her hands feels heavy, although it weighs nothing; and even less for her.**

**She walks slower along the deep piled carpet of the second floor, stopping in front of an oaken door, thinking; thinking about turning back and giving them another day, another week.**

**No, she tells herself, no, it needs to be done. She reaches out and opens the door.**

**The room is large and bright and belongs in a French chateau. A newly bought mahogany four-poster bed is against the far wall, with a thick white duvet and a sea of pillows under the tall wooden canopy; the only bed in the house, arrived today. She walks over to it, wrapping her hands around a bed post and looking down at the intricate designs carved into the wood. She knows it's antique; but how old is it? It looks Victorian; Edwardian, almost, definitely older than her. Very French.**

**The walls are stone, part of the old building, and the room is delicately furnished; old and wooden and curving. An ornate wooden fireplace set in the wall opposite the bed, for when winter wraps icy fingers around the world again; an elegant, rickety desk stands to the left of the bed, a tall dark bookcase to the right; a deep red Persian rug stretches across the varnished wooden floorboards. The windows are all thrown open and a breeze whispers through, playing with thin lace curtains. Alice walks over to the windowsill, still clutching her bag, and puts white fingers on the pane.**

**The air is warm and fresh and smells of summer. The forest is gently swaying, all the way down the hill to the stream which circles the valley, before flowing east towards the sea. She watches a triangle of birds flying across the sun, coming home again. She can see the colours of their feathers and the glints of the sun in their eyes.**

**She looks down at the plastic bag again and she thinks maybe she should just stay out of it, let things carry on as they are at least for a while. It would be so easy. She shouldn't even be able to see these things. She wishes almost every day that she couldn't.**

**The door opens behind her and Jasper steps quietly into the room. She knew he would come; not because she looked, but because she knows him. Better even than she knows herself. There is a silence, and he crosses the floorboards and stands next to her at the window. He doesn't say anything to begin with, merely watches the first day of summer, and reflects its brilliance.**

**You have to do it, he tells the forest, and she watches his hair ruffling in the wind. She sighs, and glances over the brightly lit room, light pouring through the windows and pooling on the floorboards. He sighs. You have to.**

**She snaps her head to face him. Why? she asks.**

**He stands perfectly still and his skin glitters in the sun. She can see the answer in his eyes and she looks out to the forest. I hate this, she says, I hate it. He smiles sadly and tells her what he always tells her. It's part of who you are, he says. **

**She rests her elbows on the windowsill and kneads her eyes. I can't cope with it, she says. It's too much, sometimes. I wish I could switch it off.**

**He puts a hand on her shoulder. I'm always here.**

**She knows it. She turns to him, eyes wide, and he looks at her and then at the bathroom door, large and white and beckoning. She smiles briefly at him and walks into it, disappears, reappears. The bag is gone. They share a look and then they walk out of the room. She closes the door slowly and carefully and all is quiet.**

**The sun floods through the window, warms the floorboards, creeps into the corners of the empty fireplace. Outside, a bird is calling. It flies past the window, wings outstretched, disappears, flies past the next; its twittering fades away. The wind blows into the room. The curtain blows gently out.**

**.**

**((review?))**


	20. face

**Is**** this the land our fathers loved,**

**The freedom which they toiled to win?**

**Is this the soil whereon they moved?**

**Are these the graves they slumber in?**

**Are we the sons by whom are borne**

**The mantles which the dead have worn?**

**.**

The dusk is descending, the wind whispering softly about the world. It breathes softly along the surface of the lake, sends shivers along the water; it blows into the face of a sleeping girl. She shifts slightly in the arms of the man she is laying against, mutters something. He smoothes her hair, kisses her head, looks up at the darkening sky and thinks about waking her. The sun dragged the light down from the sky as it fell, and now it's like he's looking through a black and white camera. He can see a faint ghost of the moon. It has two eyes and an open mouth, and looks surprised. He smiles softly up at it and thinks, I know, right? He looks down at the girl sleeping against him, leans over and makes sure her jumper is tight and she isn't cold. I love you, he whispers, I love you I love you I love you. She shifts and presses an unconscious head closer against his chest. I love you I love you I love you.

The wind blows around his head and through his hair and down the hill, over the grassy slope in which their footsteps are only just fading. It sifts through the thick trees which cover the hillside like skin and dances around warm summer leaves, it dips into burrows and shakes night animals awake, hello, yes, it's time to get up now. Dark night-eyes poke above the earth and sniff the air, scuttering over the wood-littered ground. They group around newly fallen trees and they don't remember what happened yesterday, don't remember how the wind ripped through their homes and the rain lashed down on them and made their tiny hearts beat faster than ever, pump-pump-pump-pump-pump.

The wind surges up over the trees and the moon has struggled through the mist of day, clear now, stark white in the fast darkening sky. Stars are blinking bleary eyes and gazing down at the world below; old light staggering its way through the vastness of space, yawning and weak. The bronze-haired boy is visible at the top of the hill, supporting the girl; she is still half asleep. He whispers in her ear and holds her hand and makes her laugh a bleary laugh. Isn't it warm, isn't it beautiful, he says. She nods and struggles to keep her eyes open. I love you, he says, I love you, and she feels like crying. Happy tears, happy sleepy joyous overwhelmed tears leaked by a heart which is full of a contentedness which threatens to burst it. The wind backtracks, wipes the tears from her eyes, dips down the hill again.

It blows through the forest, twisting over and under long thick branches, slipping between green leaves splayed out like grasping fingers; and comes across a church, small and solid and old. A window is open, flung wide to welcome a summer day which has passed, and the wind seeps in, swirls about the darkening room. The curtains are blowing this way and that as the wind plays with them, inspecting them, slipping in and out through holes in the lace. A bed stands warm and waiting against the far wall, and a fire has been lit in the grate. It flickers low and light, the wind fighting with the flames and making them bend backwards, forwards, as they try to dodge it. The logs slowly blacken and disintegrate and ash drops into the fireplace and is wafted gently across the floor.

The fragile summer day is slowly breaking away and crumbling into the wind, and the chill of spring is coursing slowly up through the cracks. The girl shivers as she stumbles through the forest, and the man pulls her close and says nearly there, now, nearly there, just a few more minutes, nearly there. Are you cold? he asks, and she shakes her head and shivers. He takes off his jacket and helps her put her arms through it. She breathes it in and smiles, shrinking into the fabric. Thankyou, she says through heavy lips.

The breeze blows under the door of the empty room, into a dimly lit hallway, and a warm orange light is flooding the space. The floor is wooden and dark, and the walls are of grey stone, the same grey stone which was there two hundred years ago. There is a room to the right, large and dark and empty, full of books which are old and leather bound and speak in words which have so recently died. More doors along the corridor lead to more darkened rooms, a study, a bedroom, another bedroom. And this one is lit.

A small girl sits in the corner, humming happily along to a tune which drops softly from a speaker in the wall. A boy is sat in a chair and staring out of the closed window, his face pressed against the glass. His breath comes out cold as it went in and the window does not mist.

The wind whistles around his head and he shifts, looking over at the closed door, raising his eyebrows, wondering where it is coming from. He looks back outside to the darkening hillside. He can see them coming, emerging slowly from the trees. She's so nearly asleep, and he's holding her close to him and talking to her. The boy at the window watches her, as she smiles and stumbles slightly; pale arms catch her, red lips part and a laugh slips between white teeth. He points up at the house. She looks up and rubs her eyes.

The boy at the window looks carefully at the girl as they come closer, looks at her and searches for signs. He can't make any out, not yet. He looks over at the small girl humming in the corner. They're home, he says, they're home. She looks up, sighs, comes and joins him at the window. They share a glance, and they both know each other's thoughts. The light above them shakes slightly as the breeze wanders around it; it slips through the room and over the top of the door.

It flows down a darkened stairway lined with red brick, newly added, the stones still square; age had not yet wearied them. There is another corridor at the bottom of this one; light creeps out under wooden doors, voices laugh from behind dark stone walls. Orange lights jut out from the wall; muted bulbs in iron casts. A door on the left opens, and a tall thickset boy steps out, still laughing, and shuts the door behind him. He turns and jumps down the steps, and he's faster than the wind. It struggles to keep up.

Esme, he calls, Esme, I heard Jasper say they're home, I lit the fire but do you think she'll want to eat? The wind surges over his head and he glances up. Can you feel a draught? he asks her, as she steps out of the living room and smiles at him. No, she says, her voice sounding like honey, soft and sweet. I'll make her a sandwich, she says, is Rose coming out?

The boy looks up at the ceiling. She's being a bitch, he says, lightly, smiling. I think it's sweet.

Esme bites her lip and looks up at the ceiling too. The wind flies at her and splits around her body, curving around her form and breathing through her hair. She frowns. You're right, she says. There is a draught.

The wind pours under the front door and back into the outside world. The church is dimly lit and light spills out onto the cleared ground around it, lighting up small squares of the fast approaching night. The two of them, the boy and the girl, are walking over a rough gravel road, and her eyelids slip down over her eyes and her heart is beating slowly. She drifts away for a second and falls backwards; he braces and catches her. Her eyes open slightly. Look, he says, pointing at the dark stone building with the orange eyes, look, we're here. She shivers and he wraps his arm around her, tightens his grip around her waist and leads her gently to the door.

It swings open, and light spills out onto their pale faces. The girl blinks in the suddenness of it. Hello, the honeyed voice says, I've made you something to eat, come on in, it's getting cold. The boy helps the girl up the steps, thanking his mother, laughing as the girl stumbles over her own feet. The door shuts behind them and their voices are cut off.

The wind rises and falls and dances around in the night, gusts flowing over one another, mingling and growing and parting and swirling. Streams of air fly up into the tower at the top of the church. Four arches support a slate roof, and a huge bell sits fat and smug in the centre, a rope dribbling down out of its gaping mouth, curling on a cold stone floor. The wind slips into the bell and churns around inside it. It whispers quietly and the whisper echoes around the cavernous space, soft and gentle, like fingertips along parchment, like lingering last note of a song. They're happy now, the wind is saying. The bell repeats the words. _They're happy, they're happy, they're happy_, it murmurs.

But not for much longer, the next gust warns.

_Not for much longer._

**.**

**((so the rewrite is officially over. sorry if it annoyed you; but the earlier chapters were the work of a thirteen year old me so of course needed to be remedied. as of now we're back to three week waits as I struggle my way through. good luck. don't kill me.)) **


	21. too

**Often I sit, looking back to a childhood,**

**Mixt with the sights and the sounds of the wildwood,**

**Longing for power and the sweetness to fashion,**

**Lyrics with beats like the heart-beats of Passion; -**

**Songs interwoven of lights and of laughters**

**Borrowed from bell-birds in far forest-rafters;**

**So I might keep in the city and alleys**

**The beauty and strength of the deep mountain valleys:**

**Charming to slumber the pain of my losses**

**With glimpses of creeks and a vision of mosses.**

**.**

**.**

**Morning has broken, like the first morning, as it goes. With the freshness of the air and the beauty of the day you would be forgiven for thinking it a first, too, for the sights today are so alive that morning seems innovative, exciting. As if God opened his eyes a few hours ago with a fantastic idea and we've woken up to a miracle. **

**Birds have shaken their feathers out and jumped off their branches, dropping down a few metres then spreading out their wings and catching the breeze. They curve up into an open sky, ejecting a sharp high call as they go. Hundreds of other voices answer, all different, and suddenly a million fluttering wings have swarmed upwards from the top of the trees, collecting in the sky and calling out to one another. The cloud of birds rises and falls and changes shape; folding in and spreading out and looping and diving. The cries seem so natural and unrehearsed; spontaneous. **

**A small group breaks off, rises, falls, dips into the forest and rushes through the trees. It curves out beside the small church and swarms past an open window. A tall boy leans on the sill and smiles as the flurry of wings flashes in front of his face.**

**Bella is sitting up in bed, rubbing her eyes, and Edward turns and smiles. Morning, he says. **

**Alice hears her wake up and checks what is to come and breathes a sigh. Not yet.**

**It's a new day, perfect and unspoiled as a new page.**

**But the paper's only blank for now. Who knows what will be written by nightfall. **

**.**

"Emmett, turn that _off_."

"Why? It's good."

"It is not _good_. It is what I think is generally referred to as _crap_."

"Just because it's not Mariah orgasm-into-a-microphone Carey-"

"Emmett, turn it off."

Edward handed me a mug and we exchanged a glance, looking away before we laughed. I took the tea in my hands as he jumped up alongside me on the worktop. Emmett and Rosalie were sat at the dining table with the radio, and as the stone wall separating the rooms had been artfully knocked down, the kitchen and the dining room opened on to each other, giving us a perfect view of their conversation. I took a sip of my tea and rested my head on Edward's shoulder.

"What do you want to do today?" he asked, quietly, looping his arm around my waist.

"I don't know. This is quite entertaining." Edward chuckled.

Rosalie looked up at us sharply, flicking the page of her book with a sharp jerk of her wrist. "Are you two still here?" She demanded, angrily. "Don't you have babies to make or something?"

"Shut up, Rose," Edward said, calmly.

She glared at me for a second then turned back to her book. "Emmett, turn the fucking radio _off_."

I drank some more tea and sighed. "So, what'll it be?" Edward asked.

I sighed, staring down at the wooden floor. "There are definitely plenty of things I should be doing," I said, feeling that lingering layer of guilt coating my insides again. "Things I need to do."

"I'm presuming those are things that would require your going somewhere without me," he said, wrapping a stand of my hair around his finger and looking down at me.

I nodded, and took another sip.

"Let's not do them, then," he said, decisively, and I laughed softly.

Rosalie turned another page in her book, with more aggression than was required. Emmett looked over at us and rolled his eyes. I smiled.

Edward kissed the top of my head and took my hand, and I held his gently within mine. I wished I could shake this worrying, nagging guilt, and just be… _happy_, fully happy again. I sighed heavily, and his fingers tightened empathetically. Jacob's grief stricken face flitted into my mind, and I shook my head. It was no good. I was too worried, too much to blame. I let go of Edward's hand.

"What is it?" he asked; but his voice sounded resigned. He had already guessed.

I pulled away, looked up at him. "Can I use your phone?" I asked, my words heavy with their implications. But I was reconciled to what had to come. And if not now then when? It seemed as good a time as any. The sooner I could know Jacob was alright, the sooner maybe I could begin to try to forgive myself.

Edward looked at me, looked behind us out of the window, looked down at his hands. "Yes," he said, quietly. I smiled sadly and kissed him on the forehead before pushing myself off the worktop and landing on the floorboards. "It's in the hall," he said. I took another mouthful of tea and set it down beside him. He met my eyes, the corners of his mouth turning up in a very half-hearted way.

"I love you," I reminded him. "Don't worry."

He gave me a short-lived grin in reply.

I crossed the floor, opening the door and closing it behind me. I just caught Rosalie's angry voice shouting at Emmett ("If you don't turn that off right now I swear to God-") before the solid oak cut off any further conversation.

The corridor was bright and cosy. To my left the stairs rose very steeply to the second floor, and to my right the front door had large windows on both sides. The morning light swarmed inside, warming the room. I walked over and looked out. The valley was much the same as it had been yesterday. The sun shone and the clouds were wispy, like trails of smoke. The trees shivered _en mass_ all the way down to the base of the hills, where the farmland started and sheep stood aimlessly about, little white dots, so far away. I glanced at Knives then quickly looked away.

I looked down at the phone, which stood on a little table beside the door. It was large and old and wooden, the receiver a thick varnished stick with two large round speakers sticking out at either end. It had a keyboard which had obviously been newly fitted; presumably over an old dial. I ran my hand through my hair and picked up the receiver. If not now then when, I thought, if not now then when.

The customary gentle hum streamed through my ears, and I leant back against the front door, the curled wire stretched out. I stuck my finger inside the ringlets and twisted it about, listening to the drone. Trying to summon the nerve. If not now then when.

I quickly dialled my home phone and slid down to sit on the floor. The dialling tone vibrated through my ear, bring bring, bring bring. My heart beat in time, tension curling itself into a ball in my stomach. Ten dials passed before I was greeted by my own voice. _Hello, you've reached Bella and Jacob, please leave a message._

I hung up quickly, and rested my head against the door. A grandfather clock at the end of the hall hailed it as half nine. Maybe he was at work.

Maybe he was at home, ignoring the phone.

Maybe he wasn't home.

I reached up for the phone and dialled again, pressing the receiver to my ear. This time there was only two tones before the answer message clicked on. My fingers froze inside the curled wire. He must be at home, to cut me off.

_Please leave a message_, my voice told myself. The beep sounded out of the phone and I still hadn't hung up.

I took a breath. "Jake?" I said, tentatively. "Jake, please pick up." The phone contentedly hummed away in my ear and I waited. "Jacob?"

The kitchen door opened and Edward slipped into the corridor. He leant against the door to close it, his eyes on me. I looked up at him, and sighed. "Jacob, please," I closed my eyes, pressing the receiver to my ear as tight as it would go. There was just silence. I opened my eyes again, to find Edward standing directly beside me. I started, and dropped the phone. "Shit, Edward, don't do that—" I picked it up again. There was no noise. A lady told me to _please enter the number you wish to call._

"Sorry," Edward said, but he didn't sound it; he sounded more relieved than anything. I looked up at him and raised my eyebrows, set the phone back on its stand. I pressed my head into my hands and groaned.

"What," I said through my fingers, "Am I going to do?"

"Just give him time," Edward said.

"How much?" I asked, looking up at him, my voice sounding desperate. "I can't go on like this, just wondering what he's doing or how he is. I need to know that he's okay."

Edward smiled sadly, offered his hand out. I took it and he pulled me to my feet.

"How much time would you want?"

"I nearly jumped off a cliff to hear your voice, so I think these are completely different circumstances."

Edward's eyebrows shot up. "You what?"

"Nothing," I said. "Can we get out of here, please? I don't think Rosalie much enjoys my company."

"I could punch her, if you like. I did promise."

"That's okay."

"Are you sure? It wouldn't be a problem at all. Quite the reverse."

I laughed, opening the door and pulling him outside. We fell out onto the drive and he grabbed me around the waist, twisted me about and kissed me. I was about to curl my hands over his shoulders when he pulled sharply away, eyes closed.

"What?" I asked, my eyes snapping open and my body attempting to re-find its centre of gravity.

He sighed, looked pointedly at me. He gestured to his eyes, which were black as night, and then turned away, walking further down the driveway and running his hands through his hair. "Sorry," he said, turning back to me. I shook my head.

"You should go out with Emmett."

"I don't want to leave you."

I walked down after him and took his hand. The sun warmed our heads as we walked down the road. I stood on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "You don't need to worry about me."

"Don't I?" he asked, quietly, almost to himself. I squeezed his fingers.

"We're a bit dysfunctional," I noted, looking down at his skin as it shimmered between my fingers.

"You could say that."

"We'll be okay, though."

"You can be sure of that." He let go of my hand and wrapped his arm over my shoulder. "So," he said, "Are you going to tell me voluntarily about this time you almost jumped off a cliff, or am I going to have to force you?"

I laughed, and grabbed the hand wrapped around my shoulder. He held his arm high and I span around underneath it, twisting into him as we walked along. He wrapped his arm across my chest and kissed the side of my head. "Well?" And there was real worry in his voice.

"I really missed you," I said, as an explanation.

"That's no excuse."

"I didn't jump because I was trying to kill myself," I said, stopping and looking up at him. His black eyes met mine, their darkness emphasised by the shimmering of his skin. His expression stayed perfectly still, and he waited for me to continue. I blushed, looked down at the ground. "It was for… fun."

His eyebrows slowly rose. "For," he repeated, slowly. "Fun. Jumping off a cliff, _for fun._" I met his eyes as he stared incredulously at me. "Is this in the same way you ride motorbikes for fun, and hang off bridges for fun?"

I looked away and put my hands in my pockets. The day was bright and happy all about me, but my mind was suddenly full of lashing rain and burning arms and the belief that this was it, this was the end-

"Bella, are you alright?"

"Yes," I said, shaking myself. "Sorry."

He watched me carefully. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

He looked at me very hard for a long time, before once again wrapping his arm around me and walking on. "I love you," he said.

**.**

**He sits at his kitchen table, staring at the phone as he presses the red button. The incessant ringing stops; the phone goes dead and beeps, the screen flashing.**

**Her voice rings out in the silence of the kitchen, vibrating out of the small speaker on the phone stand. He shakes his head, presses his fingers to his ears, tries to drown her out. **_**Jake. Jake, please pick up. Jacob**_**.**

**Why can't she just leave him alone? She's already broken his heart; does she have to oversee the damage? And then he hears her speak **_**his**_** name and his finger has smashed into the red button before he has even thought about it.**

**He cups his face in his hands and tries to erase the sound of her from his mind. Her voice echoes inside his head, and he cranes his neck back, staring up at the ceiling. The house is so quiet, so empty. He glances over at the mug she left on the worktop. He hasn't even taken the tea bag out. **

**He looks down at the phone, pauses, then presses the play button. He presses his fingers to his eyes as he rests his head on the table and listens to her voice. Tinny and electronic, but still unmistakably hers. **_**Jake. Jake, please pick up. Jacob.**_** Stop. Play. **_**Jake. Jake, please pick up. Jacob.**_** Stop. Play. **_**Jake. Jake, please pick up. Jacob.**_** Stop. Play.**

**.**

"No, Bella, left-" I looked down at my feet and tried to work out which was left and which was right and whether I was supposed to move backwards or forwards. Edward laughed, nudging my foot with his own. "Yes. And then back- no, _back _-"

"I can't do it!" I cried, "How am I supposed to remember all this? It's so _stupid,_ why on earth would you voluntarily do it? There's no point, you just fall over your own feet and end up looking like an idiot! I _always_ hated Dirty Dancing! This is _impossible-_" Edward pressed his face into the top of my head and was paralysed for a second with laughter, and I bashed his chest with my hands. "Don't laugh at me," my muffled voice said into his shirt.

"It's not that difficult," He said, regaining the power of speech. "Uncoordinated people have been managing it for almost a century now."

"How," Alice said behind us, "Can you hate Dirty Dancing? How?"

Edward took my hand again, resting it on his shoulder. He curved his around my waist, and smiled. "Left. Back." I stumbled my way through it. "Now behind, side, front- no, Bella, wrong way-"

"I give up!" I said, stepping back. "It's too hard."

Edward laughed again. "It's probably safer this way," he said, and I glared at him.

I threw a chair back and sat down at the table. "What's in those?" I asked Alice. She glanced up from her magazine at the two large paper bags on the table, then turned a wide smile on me. I looked at the names on them and groaned. Edward laughed again, sitting down beside me.

"Well, you haven't got anything to wear, so I just popped out. Don't be mad, I'll take you out with me soon, it's just for the time being."

I groaned again, pressing my forehead against the table.

"No, no, look, it's all lovely!" Alice said, pulling a red skirt out of one of the two brown bags on the table. I raised my eyebrows at it and she frowned, looked at it critically. "No?"

"No."

She rummaged inside again and pulled out a white dress. I stared at it dubiously. Edward laughed at my face. "I like that one," he said. I looked at him incredulously.

"You're supposed to support me in this resistance!" I said, as he carried on laughing. "I'm not joking, Edward, there's a serious danger I'll have to wear that."

"Good. It's nice."

"I concur," Alice said, in a businesslike tone, folding it up and laying it on the table. I picked it up and held it before my face.

"It's_ lace._"

"So?" Alice said, tipping the paper bag upside down. "This is all stuff for Emmett…"

Edward laughed, picking up a cardigan and holding it up to the light. "Do you honestly believe he will wear this?"

"Rose will make him," Alice said matter-of-factly. "You know, I can't remember the last time you laughed properly, it's odd."

Edward glanced quickly at me, then away again, and I watched him carefully. Alice looked up at us and smiled. "What about these?" she said, reaching into her bag and pulling out a pair of lace up brown boots. I slowly looked away from Edward and cocked my head at them. I shrugged, and a huge grin split Alice's face open. "Did I do good?" She asked, happily. I rolled my eyes, as she put them beside the white dress, on what I feared was rapidly becoming my 'wardrobe pile'. To make up for my lapse I rapidly refused all of the next few items she took out.

"Do you want something to eat?" Edward asked, glancing at the clock.

"Nope," I said. "I think, though," I tried to speak as a yawn pushed my lips apart. "I might go to bed."

"No!" Alice said quickly, and Edward and I both looked at her in surprise. She met our eyes and smiled. "Jasper will be back soon, he won't want to miss you."

I turned to Edward. "See?" I said. "Everyone else has gone hunting. It's just _you_ being obstinate."

"I'm not thirsty," He said, grinning at me.

"Oh, so did someone squirt ink in your eyes? Because they look really black."

"I'm fine."

"Liar."

He sighed. "Are you going to drop this?"

"No," I said.

"Bella-"

"I'm not dropping it until you give in."

He sighed, and the corner of his lips turned up. I was just about to ask "What?" when was on his feet and by my side. I screamed as he hoisted me over his shoulder and held me there with one arm. The chair in which I had been sitting fell with a clatter to a floor which I was now suspended two metres above.

"Are you going to drop this?" He asked again. I laughed and screamed and pounded his back with my fists.

"Let me down, Edward-"

"Are you?"

"No!" I shouted, collapsing into laughter once again, struggling against his grasp. I felt his shrug beneath me, and I heard Alice chuckling. I grabbed his hand and tried to pull it from my waist, but it wouldn't budge. "Edward, let go of me!" I shouted, and he laughed along with me.

The door opened and I turned my head around to see Rosalie standing in the doorway, her impassive face locked on us, her neat eyebrows slightly raised. I tried very hard not to laugh but didn't quite manage it; Edward didn't even bother. "Hi, Rose," he said. "You look uptight and disagreeable as ever."

"You," she said, walking over to the table and picking up her book, glancing into the bags. "Look like an idiot. Can I have this?" She held up the red skirt. Alice nodded.

"I don't think we're wanted," I whispered to Edward, and Rosalie glared at me. I felt ridiculous, upside down and back to front as I was, and her hostility made the colour rise in my cheeks.

"Mmm," Edward said, shifting me so I was more firmly placed. "Bed?"

"Please."

"Goonight, Rosalie. Night, Alice."

"Stay a bit longer," Alice said, quickly, sharply. "He'll be home any minute." Edward shook his head, walked over and kissed her on the head, and turned towards the door. Alice gave me a small smile as I waved at her over his shoulder, but her mouth was very quickly back to a straight line, and she looked distressed. I frowned at her as Edward carried me through the door. Rosalie glared at me, still rummaging through the bags.

Edward sped up as he ran up the stairs, and Alice's face was soon forgotten as I screamed again, my eyes wide and laughter causing a stitch in my side. He was laughing too, as he ran up the next staircase and down the hallway to the bedroom door. He opened it and slipped inside, flicking on the light. The dark-wood floor lit up below me. Edward bent down and set me down. I blinked heavily as blood rushed to my head.

"I'm sorry about Rose," Edward said, and I shrugged. He walked over to the windows and closed the curtains. "She can't help being a huge bitch."

I sighed, and walked over to the bed, throwing myself across it. He walked over and lay down beside me, running his hand through my hair, bending down and kissing me. I quickly wrapped my arms around his head to hold him close for as long as he could possibly manage, but it was no use. It was about ten seconds before he pulled away.

"Joking aside," I said, quietly, "You still need to go hunting." He shook his head, as I curled myself up beside him. He wrapped his arm around my waist. "Edward."

"I'm not going."

"What, so you're going to starve? Or are you going to lose control and have a go at me?"

"I'm not going."

"It will take an hour. Tops."

"It's a Scout Camp week. I'm not going thirty miles north. That would take too long."

"You have to go soon, don't pretend it isn't getting difficult."

"It's fine."

"Edward," I said, depairing and disbelieving, sitting up and staring down at him. His eyes met mine and I tried to read them, without much success.

"I've got it under control," He said, quietly.

I stared at him, and shook my head. "I'm going to brush my teeth," I said, sliding off the bed and picking up the vest top and shorts Alice had given me yesterday. He sat up and watched me go.

The bathroom was small and white, with one of those baths with the ridiculous bear feet, and a standalone shower in the corner. I washed quickly, piling the clothes I had been wearing in the corner. I was going to have to go home soon, even if it was just to collect my clothes. The shower was warm and just the right pressure and I closed my eyes and leant my head back.

I got out, dried and dressed, going over to the large square mirror above the sink. It had completely condensed over, turning everything in the room to a misty blur. I wrote my name in the fogged surface, and saw a 'b' shaped fraction of my face.

I opened one of the little white cupboards which framed the mirror, and reached out for the toothbrush. I grabbed it, then swore as my hand knocked over a million other boxes: cosmetics and hair revival creams and makeup remover and –

I frowned, picking up one of the little boxes and staring at it. What?

I looked up at the tiny fragments of my face in the mirror, as dread fell through my body.

**.**

**She opens the bathroom door with a white-fingered hand. Edward looks up at her from the bed, sitting up straight as soon as he sees her face. What, what is it? he asks. She stares at him, a million thoughts at the gate to her mind; but just at present every moving part of her body has frozen. Her blood feels cold as it pumps around her body. **

**She opens her mouth, staring at the man she loves, and tries to say it. But the words haven't even formulated themselves in her mind yet, so how is she supposed to put them into speech?**

**He gets up to move but she quickly steps back, shaking her head. He slowly rests back on top of the sheets, staring at her in bewilderment. She tries again, and even though by now the words are burned into the material of her mind she can't get them up through her throat. Are you alright, Bella, what's wrong, what is it? But she can't say it. She's shaking and she can feel her eyes heating up.**

**Bella- and he gets up to move towards her but before he can get anywhere she chokes the two little words up through her throat and onto her lips. He hears and freezes. But, he says, but- we-**

**She puts her fist to her mouth and tears gather in her eyes. She puts one hand over her stomach and she falls to her knees, head bent as she cries. And now he moves, crossing the room faster than ****Usain Bolt**** could have****, ****closing his arms around her as she sobs. **

**It's alright, he says, it's okay.**

**He stares out of the window as she shakes against him, and he tries to convince himself of the same thing.**

**He can't do it.**

**.**

**((don't pretend the lovey-dovey wasn't getting boring. I hate writing it))**

**((I entered the teamSOB rain challenge….hint))**


	22. clear,

**But**** if our love be dying let it die,**

**As the rose shedding secretly,**

**Or as a noble music's pause:**

**Let it move rhythmic as the laws**

**Of the sea's ebb, or the sun's ritual**

**When sovereignly he dies:**

**Then let a mourner rise and three times call**

**Upon our love, and the long echoes fall.**

**.**

**She fell asleep in his arms over an hour ago but he's still holding her as tight as he can.**

**Everything is dark and still, the weak light from the moon not enough to let even him see much; shadows hang like drapes in the air and his eyes stare at them without his mind bothering to decipher their meanings. The house is quiet; Carlisle and Esme are the only few of their party still remaining. He can hear them softly breathing as Carlisle moves inside her.**

**He curves his hand around Bella's hair and stares forward, his arm clutched around her shoulders. She shifts in his arms and his eyebrows contract; he closes his eyes and pulls her sharply against him. She breathes deeply in and deeply out and he listens to her steady breaths, trying to focus in on them and calm himself down. But despite the silence, inside his head he can hear her voice saying it, over and over again, the dreaded words. **

**Don't let me go don't let me go don't let me go-**

**But what should he do?**

**She whispers something in her sleep, and he doesn't want to hear it, does not want to hear it at all. He can't pretend it away, though, and the words leak into his mind like acid, dribbling into his veins and slipping down to his silent heart. Jake, she whispers, Jake please, Jake. **

**He presses his face into her hair and tries to stop thinking. He wishes he could sleep. For there to be **_**no more**_**. To end the heartache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to. **

**Jake, please.**

**Her scent is billowing out into the air around him with every breath and he scrunches his face up and stops breathing. His mouth is wet and he swallows sharply and bites his lip and pulls her tighter against him.**

**Don't let me go-**

**.**

"Knives hospital," I said into the receiver. "How can I help?"

"I was told to ask for Doctor Greenbank-"

"I'll just put you through." I pressed a button on the phone and set it back down in the stand. I looked up to be greeted by a sheepish-looking teen sporting a plaster cast, and directed him to the appropriate wing. I checked the email inbox and replied, noted down, forwarded, deleted. I listened to Linda as she yelled down the phone to a ninety-six year old deaf man with a broken finger. I picked up the phone and answered another call. I sent off orders. I emailed appointment sheets.

Mechanical, I think the word is.

The only thing I knew when I screamed myself awake this morning was that I needed to keep my mind occupied, keep myself distracted. Keep my thoughts locked away in that way in which I was so practised. And to do that I needed to get out of the house. The obvious solution had reached out to me and I had grabbed it. So here I was; doing boring, meaningless jobs and trying to focus my mind completely on them, keep myself distracted from the imaginary weight I was deluding myself into feeling.

Linda's hair-thin eyebrows had shot three inches higher when I'd walked in the front doors. She'd been lying for me for days, she said, telling the hospital I was ill so I wouldn't get fired. I was surprised and grateful; I felt guilty admitting to myself I'd never thought her capable of such… friendliness, I guess. Such support.

I hadn't spoken much this morning, and I had felt Edward's eyes on me all through breakfast and the drive down the hill. It broke my heart not talking to him; but then if I did I knew he would be able to extract from within me that which I was very keen to keep inside. I didn't want to break down in front of him.

"Does he _ever_ give up?" Linda whispered, nodding forwards. Edward was just coming through into reception, shrugging off his lab coat and smiling at me. "Just fuck him, B. That'll shut him up."

I felt a blush rising in my cheeks and Edward stood in front of the desk, met my gaze and chuckled. "I need your help, Miss Swan," he said. He was grinning in his usual lopsided way, but was watching me very carefully. I could tell that his outward joviality was very thin. Like a sheen of ice which shatters if you tap it with your finger.

"What with?" I asked, trying hard not to smile and completely failing.

"I need to get in the storeroom." He held up a key. "But I've no idea where it is."

"Well then," I said, and stood up. Linda narrowed her eyes, and watched us carefully. I looked down at her and smiled.

"I'll be back in a minute."

She opened her mouth, looked at me, looked at him; and a huge grin spread across her face like butter on bread. "Take all the time you like," she said, subtle as a brick.

I looked up at Edward's face; his lips were pressed tight so he wouldn't laugh. I headed towards the front doors and he walked beside me. I had to concentrate very hard on not touching him at all.

He held the door open for me and we stepped out into the day. He took a breath and stared out into the carpark, his eyes wandering along the tall concrete buildings which stood across the city horizon like regiments. One side of his mouth curved. The clouds hung over us like an oppressive marquee and the wind blew dustings of rain onto my skin.

I glanced behind me, looking through the glass walls of reception. Linda was still staring at us; I laughed, exchanged a look with Edward and ran around the corner, slipping into the cobwebbed, red, wooden doorway of the storeroom. Edward followed me, grinning as he stood with me under the overhang.

I looked up at him then burst out laughing, pressing my face into his jumper. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed the top of my head. "That," he said, quietly, "was not discreet."

"She must have a radar or something, she's ridiculous."

"And you weren't listening to what she was thinking."

I leant back and looked up at him, eyebrows raised. "What was she thinking?"

He shook his head, grinning. "I don't do that anymore, remember? Thoughts are private."

"Oh come _on_, it's just Linda."

"Well," he said, running his hands down my arm, "Suffice to say she wasn't using polite language."

I rolled my eyes, and wrapped my arms around his neck. He leant forward and cupped my face in his hands, kissing me softly. I smiled and pressed my lips against his, then against his cheek, then his nose, jaw, neck, lips again. "You know," I said, "What with your being a med student and all, and being so young and innocent, I should be fired." He laughed and I took his face in my hands and stood on tip-toe to kiss him.

"I hope you do," he said, as I fell back to my feet and looked up at him, curving my hands over his shoulder. "You hate this job." He drew me close against him. I rested my head under his chin and stared down at a crisp packet on the pavement. I listened to my heartbeat for a while; I could hear it in my ear. He ran his hands slowly up and down my back and I could feel his features pressing into my head. The rain fell sparse and light onto an already wet tarmac.

"How are you?" he asked, quietly.

"Fine," I mumbled, closing my eyes and pressing my lips against his jumper.

"And how are you really?"

"Fine."

"Bella."

"I'm fine."

"You ignored me all morning," he whispered, running his hands around my shoulders.

"Sorry," I whispered, running my finger over his chest. "I was tired."

He sighed, pulling away and bending down to look me in the eyes. I looked into his; black as charcoal, with purple rings under them which gave the appearance of his having been punched. I reached out a finger and traced the purple skin. "You look terrible," I said.

"We aren't talking about me."

"You have to go hunting soon, Edward."

"And leave you?"

My eyes jerked back to his and I think he saw my thoughts. No, I was thinking. Oh God no, don't leave me.

"Didn't think so," he said softly, outlining my face with his fingers. I stared into his eyes and we were quiet for a moment. Then his gaze slipped down to my stomach and I had to look away in case he saw my face.

"I have to get back," I said, staring hard at the sliver of carpark visible around the corner and blinking hard.

"Are you hungry?"

"There's no reason I should be," I said, "I'm fine."

"Do you feel ill?"

"I feel," I said, looking back at him, "Fine."

"Bella-"

I pulled away and hopped down the step onto the pavement. "I've got to go back," I said, not looking at him. I took a few quick steps along, then paused, sighed, turned around. He had stepped out onto the pavement and was watching me.

"I really am fine," I said. He didn't respond. I smiled reassuringly and ran back to him, rising to my toes and kissing his cheek. He took my hand and squeezed it, still watching me with those thoughtful black eyes.

"I'll take you out for lunch," he said.

"Half twelve," I said. He grinned.

"I remember," he said.

**.**

"What?" I asked, finally exasperated into speech. Linda looked away, smirking and shaking her blonde head. I stared at her for a moment and then turned away. I saw her grin swivel around to face me as soon as my head was towards the screen. "_What_?" I demanded, staring at her with irritation.

"Are you…" she began, leaning the side of her head on her hand and grinning. "You know! Are you… you and him?"

"Me and who?"

"You know who I mean," Linda said, guffawing a grating Linda-laugh. The phone rang and I snapped it up, quickly giving directions to someone. I hung up and she was still looking at me. She raised her eyebrows. "Well?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said, using a determined tone to voice my feeble words, hoping somehow that the conviction with which they were spoken would mask their stupidity. She wasn't having any of it, though.

"I thought you were getting married," She said, running her hair through her fingers. "To James or someone. You're still wearing the ring."

.All the blood fell from my face and congealed in my heart. I looked at her, looked at my screen, didn't reply. I fumbled for the hole punch and slammed it down on a pile of order forms, stowing them away in a file under the desk. The phone rang again.

My stomach rumbled as I hung up and Linda looked at me; I blushed and ran my hands through my hair, looking at the time in the corner of my screen. Twelve twenty-seven.

Linda took a breath beside me. "I'm sorry if I said something-"

"No, it's alright," I said, quickly, cutting her off. I smiled at her and she ran her fingers along a perfectly straight strand of hair.

"Are you okay, B?" She asked.

"I'm fine."

She chewed on her lip. "Go and get lunch. You look knackered."

I laughed, and saved the spreadsheet on the screen. "See you in an hour," I said. She smiled her bleached-white smile. I rubbed my eyes and yawned, standing up and looking around me.

Edward smiled at me from where he was leaning against the doorframe between reception and the corridor. He swung his car keys around his finger, then fisted them, and I grinned at him, reaching behind me and grabbing my jacket, which actually was probably Esme's. He nodded his head in the direction of the carpark, then looked away from me and slipped out of the front doors. I followed, and heard Linda's thunderous laugh cackling away behind me.

The weather had deteriorated over the morning. Rain flew into my eyes and trickled through my hair, and I pulled my hands up inside my sleeves as Edward pulled me against him.

"I like her," he said, as we walked passed rain-spotted cars.

"Linda?" I asked, surprised. He nodded.

"She's nice. She's not a bright spark-"

"More of a dull glow," I agreed, laughing.

"But she likes you, a lot."

"She does?"

"Mhmm," he said. We stopped beside the Volvo and he pressed down the button of his key. The lights on it flashed and the car beeped. He opened my door and I slid inside as he moved across to his, slipping in and twisting the ignition. I leant the chair back and put my feet up on the dashboard, and Edward glanced at me and grinned, putting his arm around the back of my chair and turning his head as he reversed out. "So, where to?"

I shrugged. "Don't mind."

"There's a little bistro in the north side of town."

"I'm not really hungry," I said, watching cars whistle past us as we waited at the hospital exit to pull out onto the road.

Edward snorted, and slipped into the traffic. "Rubbish," he said, shortly. "There's a café where Jasper and Alice go. They have little plant pots you can pour coffee in, so no-one notices they don't drink anything."

"We could just go to the park."

"Bella, we're getting lunch."

I rolled my eyes. "Why?" I asked, tapping the windscreen with the toe of my boot.

"Because," he said, "You didn't eat supper or lunch yesterday and you had a cup of tea for breakfast." He sharply turned onto the high street without braking and I slid in my seat.

"I'm just not-"

"Hungry." He finished. I glanced up at him. He was staring out at the road ahead, his eyebrows pulled down like blinds and his eyes black as ever.

"Are you mad?"

"Worried."

"You don't need to be."

"Don't I?" He asked, turning away from the road to look at me. "You won't _tell_ me anything."

"There's nothing to tell."

He looked back at the road, dipping down into a side road and coming out in a small car lot next to a paved courtyard. A row of shops lined the far side of the yard, with brightly striped awnings and rain-streaked windows. The clouds moved above us, grey and thick. I glanced over at him and he was looking down at me, his eyebrows still furrowed and his lips tight. His eyes were so black I couldn't see where his irises ended and his pupils began.

He opened his door and I opened mine and we stepped back out into the day, shutting the car behind us. The wind blew my hair across my face and I pushed it behind my ear, craning my neck back and staring at the sky as it cried on it. He came over and took my hand and we walked over to the row of shops in silence, his fingers squeezing mine tightly while I desperately struggled to keep my mind blank, to stop thinking.

"Here," he said, looking up at a small shop with wooden window frames and a fancy Italian name written in cursive over the awning. He pressed the heavy door open and a bell rang as we entered a small, warm room. War-time music swung its way out of the speakers, and old couples and young families sat around wooden tables in wooden chairs. The door thudded shut behind us and a waitress looked up at us as we came in, her eyes locking on Edward and a sly smile playing with her features. He looked down at me and pulled a face.

"What's she thinking?" I whispered, glancing over at her.

He shook his head, running his hands through his hair and looking above the till at a menu scribbled on a chalkboard. "What do you want? Don't say nothing."

"Nothing."

"Bella."

"Well, I don't know," I said, glancing up and shrugging. "Soup?"

He pulled a _you-wish_ sort of look at me, and walked over to the counter. He swiftly ordered two baguettes and a dandelion and burdock, and we were directed to a table at the back. I unzipped my jacket as we walked over, Edward pulling out my chair for me. I smiled.

"So," he said, sitting down opposite me and pulling his jumper off. "If I ask you how you are again, will you actually tell me this time?"

"I'm wishing you weren't wearing a shirt which fits you quite so well," I said, honestly. "It's distracting."

"Bella."

"What?" I said, laughing. "You look so serious, Edward."

"Bella," he said, leaning forward and looking at me with earnest eyes. "Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"This," he said, gesturing at me. I frowned at him in confusion, and he groaned, running his hands through his hair and staring at the table. He was completely and unnaturally still for a moment, before looking up at me again and taking a breath.

"Last night," he began, and I felt my fingers twisting together under the table. I glanced down, but his finger was under my chin in a second. "No, Bella, look at me. Last night," he said again, his words separate and clear, "I think my heart broke about a thousand times over. I _need_ to know what's going on in your head."

"Nothing's going on in my head. Linda was really nice, though, did I tell you what she did?"

He stared at me and said nothing for a moment, then sighed. "I know what she did, it was nice. I told you she liked you."

"I never really thought she was so…" smiled, leaning back in my chair. "Friendly. She's still irritating, but she isn't evil."

He smiled weakly and nodded, staring at me then looking down at the table. I watched him as he wiped his finger along the surface of the table. "Edward?" I asked. He looked up, eyebrows raised; I had cut him off mid-thought, it seemed.

"What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking about you," he said, simply. I frowned, and he watched me with an open expression. "Please just _talk_ to me, Bella."

I groaned. "But I'm fine! You're worrying for no reason."

"_That's_ not true," he said, reaching forward and catching my jacket as it slid towards the floor.

"I'm fi-"

"Bella, _please_," he said, and his tone sounded suddenly almost desperate. "I don't understand what you're doing. You never used to hide anything from me, you used to tell me everything; or in any case I used to be able to guess. But I can't make sense of you at the moment!" He leaned in and lowered his voice, speaking quickly and urgently. "You're waltzing around like nothing's wrong when we both know you're falling apart-"

"Two chicken and bacons and a dandelion and burdock?" I glanced up at the waitress as she smiled down at Edward. He pointedly took the tray without looking at her, but she didn't stop beaming at him. "Can I get you anything else?" she said, simpering.

"No, thank you," he said.

"You sure?"

"He's sure," I said, glaring at her, irritation rising within me and forming in my face. She glanced at me, raised her eyebrows, grinned at Edward and walked off. Edward watched her retreat with distaste tinting his expression.

He turned back to me and unloaded the tray quickly. He took one of the sandwiches and pushed it towards me. "Eat," he said, looking at me with determination on his face.

I didn't even look at it. "I'm not hungry," I said quietly.

"Stop lying."

I glanced down at the baguette on my plate, then looked back up at him, my fingers still interwoven under the table.

"We can talk about last night instead, then," he said, with an indomitable tone.

"There's nothing to talk about."

"There's nothing to talk about?" he repeated, incredulous. "Bella-"

"Look, Edward," I said, quickly, "Please can we just _not_, okay? I'm fine, I'm not hungry and I can't handle this right now."

"Then when?" he asked. "When can you handle it?"

"I don't know," I said, sliding my hand into my hair and closing my eyes. "Later."

"I was watching you earlier this morning. You scared me. You had a dead look in your eyes and whenever you laughed or smiled I could tell you were trying to stifle something. Even now you… I don't know. But you don't have to hide things from me." He reached out and wrapped his hand around my arm. "It's what I'm here for."

"I'm fine."

He looked at me in the eyes; then looked away. He sat back in his chair and pressed his fingers tight around the top of his nose, saying nothing. I watched him for a moment, waited for him to move. He didn't.

"Are you okay?" I asked, quietly, tentatively.

"No," he said.

We sat in silence for another long moment before he opened his eyes. He reached out for my arm again and pulled my hands up to the table, took one of them and brought it to his lips. He kissed it softly, clasping it tight. "Please," he said to the table. "Please just take a mouthful of the sandwich, Bella."

I looked at him, looked down at my plate, looked back at his bowed head. Guilt wriggled inside me as I looked at him, and I sighed. I slowly picked up the bread and took a bite off the end. He didn't look up, but pressed my hand against his forehead. "Thank you," he said.

I swallowed heavily, set the sandwich down and turned to watch the café. And old lady and an old man were sitting opposite each other on a table by the front windows. He was pouring her tea and she was talking to him, gesturing, laughing at her own words. He looked up and her and I could see the wrinkles around his eyes crease as he smiled at her.

A young mother sat her infant son on the table and talked to him, blowing raspberries on his belly as he giggled happily. Her husband watched them affectionately, and then took the child, stood up, held the boy up above his head. The high, gurgling giggles filled the room, ringing out over Perry Como. _The way that we cheered whenever our team was scoring a touchdown_, he sang through the speakers. _The_ _time that the floor fell out of my car when I put the clutch down._

I turned back to Edward, who was watching me with black eyes. I stared at him as words fought in my head; I didn't want to voice them, didn't want to look weak and stupid and stupid and stupid. I thought I was past all that. I didn't want to voice was I was thinking because I wasn't even ready to think it yet.

But his face was so anxious, watching me with such care and fear; and I realised that it was pointless trying to hide things from him, because he was a part of me. You can't lie to yourself.

At least, not for very long.

"I'm messed up," I said, quietly. Edward pressed his lips together, then pushed his chair back and knelt down beside me. He wrapped his arms around my chest and I wrapped mine around him. "I'm sorry," I whispered into his ear.

He shook his head, and I clung to him and tried to keep the flood barriers up in my mind. It was getting harder and harder with every passing minute.

My stomach growled.

**.**

_**Ssh, baby.**_

**.**

**((review?))**


	23. and love

**Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,**

**Having some business, do entreat her eyes**

**To twinkle in their spheres till they return.**

**What if her eyes were there, they in her head?**

**The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars**

**As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven**

**Would through the airy region stream so bright**

**That birds would sing and think it were not night.**

**See how she leans her cheek upon her hand!**

**O that I were a glove upon that hand,**

**That I might touch that cheek!**

**.**

**((so I'm soldiering on. although I actually do have to stop when I turn sixteen. we've got half a year, chucks.))**

**.**

**Let's follow this little bird.**

**It's flitting its way through the city, rising, falling, tiny wings vibrating in a blur, little beady eyes reflecting the gleam of the springtime sun. It flies along the line of an electricity wire, following the curve from pylon to pylon, up, down, up, down, all the while its little wings fluttering madly. The wires branch out and it curves, following one black line to the top of a squat grey building. The little bird drops down towards the ground, twittering as it goes. It comes to rest on a large plastic 'M'. It places two careful feet, ruffles its wings and inspects the area around it carefully.**

**There are three people in the carpark of the motel, discussing something in loud, agitated voices. One of them is a small, dark haired woman with eyes blue and sharp as ice. She's shouting at a stout, dark man in a gingham shirt.**

**Well I don't know what she was thinking, the man says, his words punching the air with the volition behind them.**

**Holy crap, Charlie, she exclaims, I don't know what you're so upset about, would you have wanted her-**

**The third member of the group looks up from his wheelchair and pulls his hat away from his head so he can properly glare at the woman. Would he have wanted what, he asks, his voice cool and deliberate. What's wrong with my son?**

**Nothing, nothing. The woman is flustered, running her hand through her hair. Just, she says, just, if Bella wasn't happy, Charlie-**

**This is so typical of you, Renée, our daughter has run off and you couldn't give a-**

**Don't you say that to me, Charlie, that-**

**Jacob's broken hearted and all you can say-**

**Well of course I'm sorry for Jacob- **

**You don't give a damn about my son, Mrs Dwyer, the man in the wheelchair says, quietly. There is a long silence, and Renée stares at the man. Of course I do, she says, of course I do, but.**

**All three of them listen to the little **_**but**_** as it hovers in the air.**

**I wouldn't be so angry, Charlie says, after a long and awkward pause, I wouldn't be so angry if it had been anyone else. I mean, he says as the man in the wheelchair opens his mouth, I mean of course I'd still be furious, Billy, Jacob's a great boy. But still, that after all this time, it had to be him… **

**There is a long quiet, and here we have finally found something they all agree on. **

**The little bird jumps off the 'M' and swoops down through the air, wings flat, then whoosh- **

**-and we're up in the air again, wings going like hemi-demi-semi quavers. Going high, high above the city, and this time the bird is not alone. Two more swoop up from neighbouring buildings, curving around each other, twisting, rising, falling; dancing. The high pitched calls ring out over the car horns and sirens of Knives; fast, shrill twitterings. Peep-peep peep peep-peep peep.**

**The little bird turns its head northwards and sets off, arcing down through the air, falling like a bullet, the two other birds falling in place behind him. It swerves around a shopping centre, flits over roads, all the while its wings going like taught elastic just pulled. The bird can smell something on the air; something warm, something good; it dives, curving around, falling, falling-**

**Bloody birds, a man in dirty overalls shouts, as the three animals swoop inside the garage. He shoves his entire sandwich in his mouth as he waves his arms back and forth. My, he says, bloody, he says, sandwich. My bloody sandwich, you bloody pests, piss off!**

**The birds caw and caw and fly up, away from the flailing arms. They circle the garage, searching for a hiding place among the cars and oil barrels and tool boxes. They finally perch on a window ledge and watch the sandwich with a focused gaze. The man in overalls glares at them as he chews his oversized mouthful, tries to swallow and chokes.**

**A dark haired man shoots out from under a car and is by his side in a flash, hitting him on the back with considerable force. A fat hand flies to a bursting mouth, and the choking man coughs, coughs- and finally swallows. Bloody, he says, takes a deep breath, bloody bloody birds.**

**Are you okay, Dave? the dark man asks, and Dave nods, wipes grimy hands on his grimy overalls. **

**Thanks, Jake, he says. Saved my bloody life. Jake gives a feeble laugh and turns back to the car, moves to go underneath it, but Dave catches his arm. Look, mate, he says, quietly, leaning his large double-chinned face forward. You've got a face like a drowned duck. Is there something up?**

**Jacob stares into his face. No, he says, no, I'm fine.**

**((**_**fine**_**: **_**being a condition which is both false and infectious**_**))**

**Dave frowns, but takes his hands off Jacob and puts them in his pockets. So then, he says with a grin, how long is it until you tie the knot? Until you give up freedom forever and dive into the shit-filled bog of matrimony? He laughs a rumbling laugh, and pats Jacob on the back with an unexpected force. Jacob stumbles forward.**

**He stares at the ground, doesn't move for a moment or two. **

**Three days, he says, quietly.**

**Well, mate, I say shag as many women as you can before then, Dave says loudly. Because in three days time that's frowned upon, like. **

**Cue second raucous laugh.**

**The birds have given up on any chance of food by this point, and with a flash of wings and a loud bass **_**bloody birds!**_** they are gone.**

**There's always food to be found in the park and that's where we're headed next, but brightly striped awnings always distract a small mind and all three birds dive down onto a courtyard and scutter around, heads twitching this way and that. The front door of a small bistro opens, a tinny bell ringing, and two pale skinned people step out into the light, a parasol quickly going up above their heads. The taller one, the boy, wraps his arm around the girl.**

**Aw, Alice, he says, his voice tangy, like what you would expect an orange to speak like if it had a voice. They're Edward and Bella, he says. They're like Mary and Joseph, y'know? Fanny and Edmund. Lucy Honeychurch and George Emerson, whatever. They're one of those couples people read about, one of those eternal couples. They'll be alright, he says. **

**The birds hop cautiously away, because there is something about him and about her that they can't help mistrusting. Something in the pale skin and bright eyes and perfect features; something **_**too**_** perfect. Something distinctly cold.**

**That's not what I see, the girl says, miserably. She glances up at the boy and heaves a sigh.**

**That's alright, he says, reassuringly. You're only ever right about the weather. **

**He laughs and the girl opens her mouth in pretend offence, slapping him gently across the face. The sun lights up her fingers for a second and they both stop, glance around, then move on quickly, trying not to laugh. **

**But the action and the sparkle didn't go unseen by all. The birds take off in fright, all flying in different directions, a cacophony of trilling fear.**

**The bird we've been following sharply twists away and goes true on his course to the park. It glides quickly above the streets, keen to get away from the strange shimmering people. Above shoppers and market stalls and taxis and trams, cars and dogwalkers and bakeries, sweeping finally down into trees. **

**The air is rich with the smells of spring, dying-blossom smells, ice-cream smells, the smell of warm grass and flowers and the smell of **_**life.**_** A man stands inside a truck on the wide pathway. He sells ice-lollies through a window to children who are too young to be able to see though. The park teems with family life, toddlers stumbling about and parents following them, tickling them, laughing, blowing raspberries. Grandmothers wheel prams about, winding slow and weary ways along the paths, smiling down at their child's-child. Who's a pretty boy, then? Yes you are, yes you are.**

**The bird circles around, diving onto lawns and tapping the ground with its beak. Tap tap tap; it's raining it's pouring, come out little worms, the old man is snoring. A few curious heads pop out of the grass and they are pounced upon, yanked out, held in a triumphant beak and pulled up into the sky for the world to see. Look, the little bird tweets, look what I've caught. Snap snap swallow, worth the wait. **

**The bird flies up high over the park, spinning mad, glorious circles, the sun warming its wings. He dips and soars and rises and calls out to the orchestra of bird life in the park, lovely day, lovely day.**

**It dives down towards a willow tree, dipping between the leaves and settling on the branches, ruffling feathers and staring down.**

**There is a murky pond below, cast in shadow by the tree, and on a short wooden jetty two heavily-clothed figures stand. They are leaning on the top of the wooden fence, staring down at the water. A young man and woman, pale as the others had been. The bird freezes, staring down at them and thinking, trying to decide whether it is safe to stay. **

**Rose, the man says, but there is no response. He takes a breath and tries again. Rose, he says, you need to calm down. He moves to put his arm over her shoulder but she impatiently shakes him off, glaring down at the water. Don't tell me to calm down, Emmett, she says. You know I'm pissed. **

**Yes I know, he says. **

**She has everything I've ever wanted, Rosalie hisses, and because she's such a fucking **_**idiot **_**-**

**She's not an idiot, Rose-**

**She is, Rosalie insists, she is an idiot. She's in love with **_**Edward**_**, that's idiot behaviour. **

**Emmett laughs loudly, a low bellowing laugh, a hearty pub-owner like laugh. Don't laugh, she snaps. That bitch is going to get rid of that baby, I know it, and if she does I swear to God I'll kill her.**

**What makes you think Bella'll get rid of it? he asks, his voice jaunty and unconcerned.**

**Rosalie snorts. Because, she says, because the kind of ridiculous love she and Edward have is destructive to everyone but themselves. **

**Caw, flutter, up and away. **

**.**

**((myspacebuttonisn'tworking))**

**((review?yesplease))**

**((oh and I need a new summary. the lovely icrodriguez, whom I freaking LOVE dudes, is working on one, but let's give her some competition just to piss her off :]-))**


	24. it,

**I have been astonished that Men could die Martyrs for religion - I have shudder'd at it - I shudder no more - I could be martyr'd for my Religion - Love is my religion - I could die for that - I could die for you.**

**.**

"Are you asleep?"

"No," I whispered. There was a silence, with nothing but our breathing to fill the air. I opened my eyes to the blackness of the night and tried to find his lips with my own in the darkness. After a few misses, a few mislaid kisses on his neck and cheek and ear, I found them. A happy silent minute was spent fumbling for love in the night.

"I can't remember," he said, pulling away from the kiss and speaking with his face an inch from mine, "How I could ever have loved watching you sleep."

I moved my head forward and kissed the parts of his face my lips came upon. I waited for him to continue without interjecting.

"You being so quiet," he breathed, his breath falling onto my face from some invisible place, "I don't like it."

"No?" I said, resting my hands against his chest.

"No. I think," he said, pressing his lips against my forehead, "That I could only be truly happy if every second was full of your voice. Never even pause for breath. That split second when you inhale is torture."

"What about moments like," I said, pressing my hands around his face and his lips against mine again, "like this?"

He smiled; I could feel it against my cheek. "Your mouth is busy. I'm satisfied."

I closed my eyes again and yawned, curling up in the warmth of the bed and feeling his arms tight around me. "I have to stop and let you speak."

"And hear me say what? You know what I would be saying. I would be wasting our time."

"I'm not the mind reader," I said. "You have to tell me."

"Well, I would be saying," he whispered, shifting and leaning over me, "That not a second goes past when I don't want to see your eyes," he pressed his lips against my closed eyelids, "Or touch your hair; your cheek;" his fingers fell in place and I found myself drifting along on his words. "Your lips with my own."

I could feel a strange warmth under my closed eyes as he kissed me.

"There," he said, "and I'm satisfied. But only for a second, and then I will need to hear you, or feel you, again. The empty seconds without you are just time for thought of you, until my eyes can lay upon you again. I can't stand the thought of being apart; you take my breath with me when you leave. You suck it from my lungs and I can't live until you return and speak it back to me."

I was very quiet for a long time, then took a steadying breath. I tried to speak but nothing would come.

"You're being quiet."

I reached up a hand and felt for his face in the darkness. "I don't have any words," I said, softly, my voice wavering slightly.

"Are you crying?" he asked, softly.

I was quiet, trying to lie as still as possible. I could feel tears slipping down my face, and I tried to stifle them. I pressed my eyelids tightly down but they wouldn't stop.

"What's wrong?" he whispered, running a finger underneath my eyes and catching the tears as they fell. I shook my head. "Tell me."

"I.."

He kissed my head, waiting.

"Edward," I said, my voice strangled. I struggled for the words. "I'm so scared," I whispered.

His hand snaked down under the sheets and fumbled about for mine. I took it and held it tight, trying to stop crying. He brought my hand up to his lips and kissed it, pressed his forehead against mine. I tried to breathe quietly and failed, gasping short and shallow.

"Tell me what you're scared of," he whispered.

"This," I said, and I moved our hands down to my stomach. He pressed his palm over it and we were very still. I could feel the bump, the tiniest of little bumps. "I don't..." I clamped my fingers around his. "I don't want it," I said. "I really-" and I couldn't go on because my lungs were full of panic.

Silence. Then: "I don't want it either," he said, his voice naked.

"I can't lose you," I said, barely louder than a thought. "I can remember what it was like. Like someone had grabbed my throat and was holding it in their fist."

His fingers spread across my stomach, then slid up my waist and curved around my head. He leant down and kissed me again. "I can't lose you either," he breathed against my lips. "I'd rather be dead. I need to feel your fingers in mine and I need to hear your voice and I need to kiss you and tell you I love you. I can't lose you. It would be worse than death." His hands ran through my hair and his lips pressed against my forehead. "At least," he said, "at least there might be something after death. There is nothing for me after you."

I shook my head. "Don't say that."

"You're thinking the same."

I pressed my face against his shoulder. "What am I going to do?" I whispered, my voice shivering.

There was a very long pause before he replied.

"Please," his grip around me tightening, "Please can you just make it go away?"

I pressed my lips against him as I shook, and I tried to reply but my throat was full of rushing air. "I don't-" I began, failed, then tried again. "I don't know."

Another long silence. "Are you going to tell him?"

"I have to."

He curled both his arms around my waist and pressed his hands against my spine, pulling me as close against him as possible. "I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too," I replied, "but-" I tried to breathe.

"But what?"

"But- Oh God," I dug my face under his neck. "I wish I didn't."

**.**


	25. and be

**I wandered lonely as a cloud  
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,  
When all at ****once I saw a crowd,  
A host, of golden daffodils;  
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,  
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.**

**The waves beside them danced; but they**  
**Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:**  
**A poet could not but be gay,  
In such a jocund company:  
I gazed---and gazed---but little thought  
What wealth the show to me had brought:**

**For oft, when on my couch I lie**  
**In vacant or in pensive mood,**  
**They flash upon that inward eye**  
**Which is the bliss of solitude;**  
**And then my heart with pleasure fills,**  
**And dances with the daffodils.**

**_._**

**_There's a Storms playlist did you know. Yes indeed there is and you can find it here:_**

www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=dcPgMxY9FKc&feature=PlayList&p=8799D7FE64082E63&index=0&playnext=1

**.**

**He stares at her as she breathes in and out, in and out, chest rising and falling like waves, constant and smooth. He shifts back on the bed, back straight against the headboard, and lays her hand open on his lap. He traces the lines on it. Oh Bella Oh Bella Oh Isabella Marie. **

**He looks over at her face, her thin little face, so much older now. So much older than him, somehow. He's never felt so much at a loss. He feels like someone's pushed him off a cliff and yelled at him to fly, but so far all he's managed is Wile E. Coyote style plummets. Oh Bella why can't I help you why can't I help you. **

**She sighs and breathes out a cloud of blood scent and warm heartbeats, and he closes his eyes and holds his own breath as the desire to **_**rip tear kill**_** sears through him. He presses his hand against hers for support, trying to keep very still. She mumbles and rolls over, resting her head on his thigh. **

**  
He opens his eyes and looks down at her. **

_**I wish I didn't. **_

**He bends over to kiss her but her scent billows around him like smoke and he pulls back, biting his lip and staring forward.**

_**I wish I didn't.**_

**Oh Bella Oh Bella Oh Isabella Marie.**

.

My eyes slid open and closed again, sleep pulling me back into its arms. My mind was fluttering between the real world and dreams, and leaning slightly towards the latter. I curled up tight, pulling my knees to my chest and pressing my face into the pillow, mumbling words that even I couldn't discern.

Something rubbed against my face and I shook my head, reached out to push it away. My fingers met paper and I frowned, opening my eyes and squinting against the flash of light which met them. I pulled the paper up to my face and opened my eyes in tiny letter-box slits, trying to read as the words slipped in and out of focus.

_Morning, beautiful._

_I'm going to murder the entire animal population within a hundred mile radius of here so I never have to leave you again. _

_I hope you're feeling better than you were last night. It's too terrible to me to see anything on your face other than a smile._

_Your Edward. _

I blinked, my eyes stinging with the fury of sleep scorned. The white light of day seeped through my eyelids, painting my mind in an ethereal glow, much too bright for a return to sleep. I read over the letter again. I pressed my lips where he had written his name.

I glanced at the clock. It was half five and the sun was already well-risen, peering nosily through the curtains. I closed my eyes, breathed in and out, and placed two feet on the cold floor. The air in the house was fresh and cool and I shivered, reaching behind and wrapping the duvet around me. I pressed my face into it and breathed in; it smelt of him a little.

I slipped out of bed and headed to the bathroom, showering quickly, trying to wake up. Sleep was tugging at the corners of my eyes as I wrapped the towel around my chest, but there was nothing to be done; I had to get up. There was something I needed to do. My stomach fell to my feet at the thought.

Or so I thought; I got to the toilet just in time.

I flushed quickly and leant against the fall, my towel falling to the floor. I leant over the sink and spat, trying to rid my mouth of the putrid, acidic taste. Closing my eyes I slid down the wall, my back arching against the coldness of the tiles.

I pressed my hand against my stomach and stared at my toes. _Good morning,_ I thought, _glad to see you're awake. _My mouth still tasted disgusting.

I couldn't get used to this. It was all too weird. And no matter how I tried to block the thoughts of it out, they would always be sat, strange and confusing, in a dusty corner of my mind. I just could not understand it. I was me, I belonged inside myself; surely there couldn't be, shouldn't be, another… another what? Person?

No. No, not person. Group of cells. Group of cells group of cells group of cells.

I groaned and pulled my hand away quickly. I was trying, and failing, to understand how I felt. I expected to feel heavy and encumbered and invaded. But I didn't. It was more like I was holding a little secret inside me, like there was something I needed to protect; something that I didn't want hurt. And whether it was a group of cells or a tiny, weeny little person-

Group of cells. I pulled my knees up to my head and bounced my forehead on them. Group. Of. Cells.

I stood up and brushed my teeth and hair, and pulled on a grey dress of Esme's and the boots Alice had bought me. I scribbled Edward a quick note, but screwed it up halfway through and threw it in the fireplace. He'd know where I was.

I slipped out of the bedroom and out of the house quickly and quietly, pausing only to grab Edward's car keys from his jacket pocket on the coat stand. The house was completely still when I left it; either they were all out, or choosing to leave me be.

I nearly broke the Volvo, forgetting that it was only the Rabbit that needed to be manhandled, and that if you yanked any other gear stick like that it would probably fall off. It was so strange to drive a car that didn't rattle or groan, didn't have parts hanging off, didn't have a radio that buzzed like a bee every time you went over a pothole or speed bump. I turned the volume up loud and wound the window down, letting the morning air pour in and blow my hair down, I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll do better than your Babyliss Speed Dryer. The freshness span around the car like an expensive washing power in a washing machine. _Good morning Knives!_ The radio chirped. _Welcome to Early Birds with me, Jimmy Dale. We're all set for a sunny day today, so I think we'll start with something from the fifties, because after all, Here Comes Summer…_

I drove down into the valley, the roads deserted and frilled by huge, leaning trees. The sun bore down from a violently clear sky and it was very easy not to think, not to worry. I curled along through seemingly endless miles, and hoped the road would last forever.

But soon enough the boot print of humanity stamps down on any natural beauty and the northern suburbs of Knives were rising grey and pebble-dashed around me.

_Welcome to Cawdor. Please drive carefully._

I slowed down, switched the radio off, and listened to my heart pump miserably. I drove along familiar roads, past familiar houses and familiar car corpses and familiar corner shops. The car wheels dipped into familiar potholes. Cawdor was deserted at this hour of the morning, all of the curtains closed and all of the streets empty. The only person I saw on my way was the paper boy, who stared at the car as I drove past, and waved uncertainly at me in the wing mirror.

I braked at the end of my road and stared at my home. It looked dejected as ever, small and squat and ugly. The Rabbit and Jake's bike were both in the drive, and I couldn't even muster the courage to groan. I leant my elbows against the steering wheel and put my head in my hands; then screamed as the car horn went off. "Ssh!" I hissed at the dashboard. A curtain slid aside in the house next to me, and I was greeted by an angry face and two fingers. I drove on quickly.

The gravel rumbled under the car wheels as I drove up the drive, those stupid little rocks heralding my arrival like a hoard of trumpets. I switched off the engine and stepped out of the car, leant against the door and drew a breath. _You can't chicken out now, _I told myself. I quickly ran up to the doorstep, and held a hovering fist against the wood of the door.

I closed my eyes and knocked.

And waited. And waited. There was no reply, so I opened my eyes and tried again. Nothing. I pressed down the door handle. The door didn't open. It was locked; he wasn't in.

I ran my hand through my hair and swore. I couldn't leave now. I wouldn't leave now. I needed to talk to him and if that meant sitting on the doorstep until kingdom come then I would. I knew it was going to be an unbearable, unthinkable conversation, but I had to do it. I was not just going to leave.

Maybe I could just come back-

No.

I kicked over the rock that we usually hid the spare key under, but there was nothing there. I went around the house but the back door was locked as well. I tried the kitchen window, but in the end it was my- the bedroom window that opened. I pushed the pane right back, and grabbed the sill.

I pulled myself over but then let go right away because the sill had dug into my stomach. I swore again, and stepped back. I felt okay, though, so I grabbed the sill again and pulled my knee up first. I perched on the windowsill, toppled over and landed in an ungainly heap on the floor, then stood up and closed the window.

I straightened up and looked around.

It was a mess. The floor was littered with clothes, bed linen, books, CDs, photographs; countless pieces of junk. The pillow cases were only half on the pillows and the sheet was coming off the corner of the bed. The wardrobe drawers were half open and teeming over with socks and shirts, and the duvet lay in a curled heap in the corner of the room.

I picked my way through the piles and perched on the end of the mattress, leaning down and taking some of the photographs in my hand.

My face smiled up at me from every one. Jacob and I at La Push. Me hugging Charlie. Graduation. Packing my bags. Getting in the Rabbit to leave Forks. That baby picture of me in the bath which he had laughed at for hours. Us in the park in Knives. Us sharing an ice cream. Us at the top of the valley. Us in Starbucks. Me in the kitchen. Me sticking up my middle finger at the camera and laughing. Me hanging over his shoulder as he carried me along the street. Me at the hospital entrance. Me in the garage, me in the back garden, me on my motorbike.

I dropped them quickly and left the room.

The house was so quiet and still that it unsettled me a little. I turned on the kettle partly out of habit, and partly just so there would be another sound apart from me. It felt odd, to be sneaking around a place which I owed a mortgage on. I made a cup of tea quickly, using tea bags I had bought and a mug I had been given, but still feeling like a squatter.

Jacob had to have been home, to make all that mess. All there was to do now was to wait. And worry, of course, but that went without saying. Why wasn't he at home at half six on a Saturday morning? He hadn't got work. He was not an early riser. There was no food out in the kitchen.

But then again, did I really want him to come home? I could just write a note and run. I glanced at the clock. If he wasn't back in an hour I was getting out of here. My fingers were white and my blood was ninety-eight percent dread. I sat down at the table and finished my tea, resting my cheek against the faux-wood and closing my eyes.

.

I yawned, sitting up and stretching, wincing as my neck and back clicked. I rubbed my eyes and gazed through the window. The sun was high in the sky and children were running up and down the street and smoking. I yawned again, and glanced around for the clock.

I started so violently that my chair moved. "Jake!" I said, my hand flying to my heart.

He was stood in the doorway, staring at me. His eyes were bagged and bloodshot, his hair hanging bedraggled around his head. His left hand was curled around the wrist of his right and his clothes looked dirty, creased. His eyes were hooked on mine as if I was the fishing line and he was the carp, and I didn't like it. I stood up quickly. "Jacob, I-"

"What are you doing here?" he asked, and his voice was low and flat. I stared at him. He hadn't moved, and his lips were straight as a ruled line.

"You look terrible," I whispered.

"What," he repeated, slowly, "Are you doing here?"

"I- Oh, Jacob-" and I moved forward. He stepped back quickly and I stopped dead. He held our gaze for a second or so longer, before looking away and running his hand up his arm. "I…" I began, trying to remember. The initial shock of seeing him was only just wearing off. "I need to talk to you." He was too thin, and his face lacked any sort of colour. His eyes hung in shadow and his face was unshaven. He looked a mess. He looked like I had, when this had happened to me. Only this time I had dealt the blow. "Jake, what have you done to yourself?"

His eyes snapped back to mine, and suddenly they were teeming with anger. "Get the fuck out of my house," he hissed, and I winced at the words as though he'd spat them at me.

"Jacob-"

"Get the fuck," he repeated, slow and clear, "out of my house."

"No, Jake," I whispered. I had known this was coming, but I couldn't help but feel every word like a blow. "I really, really need to talk to you."

He didn't reply. He just glared at me.

"Jacob, I'm-"

I couldn't say it. I looked away, pressed my hand against the table and took a deep breath. I turned back to him and jumped again; he'd moved forward so he was only a few steps away from me, looking at me with as much distaste as he would if I were dirt. "Get out of my house," he hissed.

"Please, Jake," I said, stepping back. "I wouldn't be here if it wasn't important."

I saw him wince, and I bit my lip. "I'm so-"

"Don't," he said. "Don't. Just _shut up _and go away."

"Jake-"

He growled, whipped out his arm and grabbed mine. He pulled me toward the doorway and pushed me on my way down the hallway. I stumbled and grabbed the wall. "Go, before I get mad, Bella-"

"Jacob-"

"GO!" He yelled, and I stepped away from him, towards the front door. He pointed at it. "Get gone!"

"Jacob, I'm pregnant." I said it as fast as I could; so quickly I barely even understood myself. He froze, staring at me. It was very, very quiet for a very, very long moment.

He stared at me, still as stone, then ran his hand through his hair and shook his head, smiling a twisted smile. "You _whore_," he whispered. "Well, congratulations-"

"Don't be stupid, Jake."

He looked at me, then his eyes slid down to my stomach. My hands twisted together and I bit my lip, watching him. His eyebrows dipped down like spades into his face, and he looked back at me with lost words and vacant thoughts spinning around in his eyes.

I waited for him to speak.

He took a breath. "You really need to leave."

"But Jake-"

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" He yelled, and I jumped at his volume. "I don't ever want to see your fucking face ever again-"

"But Jake-"

"Out!" He pointed at the door.

"What should-" He stepped forward to grab me again but I dodged around him, flattening myself against the wall. "Jacob, what should I do?"

He leant over me and breathed sharp and shallow. "Why are you asking me?"

"Because-"

"Get rid of it."

I stared at him. "Get rid of it?" I repeated, uncertainly.

"Get rid of it," he snarled. "I want it gone."

"Get rid of it," I said again, trying to get used to the words on my lips.

"Don't you understand?" he asked, mocking. "I mean get an abortion. Get it out of your body. Remove it from my life and remove yourself from my life and stay away from me. And," he said, leaning in so his face was a centimetre from mine, "_Get out of my house._"

I flinched as spittle landed on my cheek. I met his gaze and tried to find some of the old Jacob in there. "Can I just- can I just get my clothes-"

He raised his arm and I moved my head automatically out of the way, raising my own arms in front of my face and flinching back. But his hand froze in mid air and he drew a deep breath. I looked up at him and he glared at me, breathing very heavily, the warmth of his body reaching my skin. He curled his hand into a fist and let it fall to his side.

He put his other hand around my arm and pulled me down the corridor.

"Jacob, please-"

"Shut up."

He opened the front door and pointed at the street. I stared up at him. "Just talk to me, Jake, please, I need-" He didn't listen, pushing me out onto the driveway. He glared at me from the doorway, then slammed the door in my face.

I stared at the white wood and tried to arrange my thoughts. My arm throbbed where he had clutched it. What just happened? I ran through it in my head. My heart was pumping and adrenaline set fire to my senses. My hands were shaking.

I saw movement in the kitchen window, and turned tail. I got in the car and drove off as quickly as I could.

.

Edward was sat on the doorstep when I drove in. He smiled at me as I got out of the car, and patted the stone beside him. I smiled at him and composed myself, opening the car door and shutting it behind me, locking it and running over to him. His eyes were bright and light, like amber.

"How are you?" he asked, taking off his jacket and hanging it over me, then curling his arm around my shoulders. I rested my head on his chest. "Say fine and I'll kill you."

I closed my eyes and leant against him, pulling my knees up to my chest. "Well then, crap."

"Want to talk about it?"

"No. Yes."

"Decisive."

"Later. When I've stopped shaking."

He fumbled for my hand and held it up, and we both watched my fingers shivering. He looked down at me questioningly, twisting my hair behind my ear and running his finger along my jaw. "That bad?" He asked. I nodded.

He kissed my head. "I missed you," he said. "You've been gone four hours."

"How was your hunting trip?" I asked, composing myself and smiling up at him. I squeezed his hand tight and didn't let go.

He sighed, resting his head on top of mine. "Good. Relieving. Dull. I've spent the whole morning with Bach."

"Good old Johann Sebastian."

He laughed, and tickled me. I squealed and wriggled against him. "Listen to you, reeling off composers' names," he said, grinning. "I forgot you were a pianist now."

"Shut up."

"We'll do some playing tonight."

"I'm limited to nursery rhymes, remember?"

"We've got Chopsticks. Heart and Soul. It'll be fun."

I laughed and slid down onto his lap, looking up into his face. I lifted my hands and ran them under his jaw. "Do you think he'll ever forgive me?" I asked, keeping my voice light.

"Jacob?" He asked. I nodded. Edward smiled sadly at me. "You forgave me, didn't you?"

"Only because you came back."

He didn't reply for a long moment. He watched as I walked my fingers down his arm. "Does it matter?" he asked, quietly. My eyes snapped up to his, and he looked away. "No, sorry," he said. "That was stupid. Of course it does. I don't know."

I watched him, waiting for him to look back at me. He didn't; his eyes were fixed determinedly at the forest.

The front door opened and Alice came out, holding a steaming mug in her hands. "Hey, Bella. Hot chocolate. No need to thank me, you'll just over-inflate my ego and pop it." She slipped down on my other side and handed it over.

"Thanks," I said, sitting up, taking it and blowing across the top.

"Rosalie's being poisonous," Alice said, cupping her face in her hands and leaning forwards. "I could kill her."

Edward took my hand. "I've tried," he said. "Doesn't work."

Alice laughed. "Ah yes, I remember. It really upset Esme. Can't imagine why."

I took a sip of the drink and wrapped my fingers around it. "Care to expand?" I asked. Alice glanced at Edward and grinned.

"Eddy darling lost his temper, didn't you?"

"Shut up, Alice," Edward said. I looked up into his face and raised my eyebrows. He ran his hand through his hair, and smiled uneasily. "I just got really angry."

"And?"

"I may have thrown Rose into a wall."

"Into a _wall_," I repeated, slowly. "You threw Rosalie into a-"

"Wall," he finished for me. I stared at him for a second longer before we both burst out laughing. I set down my hot chocolate and rose on my knees, kissing him on the cheek.

"You're such an idiot," I said.

"I know," he replied, glumly.

"I love you anyway."

He met my gaze as I rested on my heels, and there was a silent something in his eyes which I could tell he wasn't going to voice while Alice was there. I smiled sadly at him and kissed his cheek again, then wrapped his arm around me once more and curled mine around him.

Alice was watching us with a sickeningly happy smile. She wiggled her legs excitedly, and laughed. "Oh, this is so nice," she said, taking my hand and squeezing it. "I'm so happy." Neither of us said anything. "Let's watch a film. Emmett and Rose should be gone by now, so it doesn't have to be King Kong or The Notebook, thank goodness. This is a prime Breakfast at Tiffany's opportunity. Let's not miss it."

"I am not watching that film again, Alice," Edward said, with an air of finality.

"But it's so good!"

"We've watched it every month since it _came out-_"

"Back me up, Bella."

"It is good," I agreed, grinning up at him. He rolled his eyes.

"And even Jasper secretly loves it, so there's proof it's good."

"Jasper secretly loves Legally Blonde!"

"Really?" I asked, laughing.

"Shut up," Alice hissed. "He'll have heard you now, I'll be in so much trouble-"

"He has heard me," Edward said. "He's telling me to tell you you're dead."

Alice glared at him, and Edward chuckled at something she must have been thinking. She jumped up and ran into the house.

Edward looked down at me and I smiled up at him. He took my hands in his and pressed his lips against my forehead. "I love her," he said, with a smile in his voice. "We fell out while… you know. I really missed her."

"Why'd you fall out?" I asked, surprised. He bit his lip.

"I wasn't being the nicest of people. I don't cope well without you. Heroine addict, remember?" I smiled up at him, and pressed closer. "Bella?" He asked. I _mhmm_ed in reply. "Was it terrible?"

"Was what terrible?"

"Today. With Jacob."

I nodded, running my hand up his chest. He hugged me tightly. "What did he say?" he whispered.

"Not much," I replied, quietly. "He just yelled at me to leave. I thought…"

"What?"

Jacob's angry face and raised arm flashed into my mind again, and I brought my knees up to my face. "He was really mad."

Edward stiffened. "Did he hurt you?"

"No," I said, hurriedly, looking up into his face. "No, he didn't, of course he didn't. Jacob wouldn't."

Edward watched me, his eyes wonderfully light but his eyebrows turned down and his lips taut. He weighed me up for a second or so before taking another breath. "What did he say about- you know. The-"

"He doesn't want it," I said quickly. I felt him relax, breathe out, felt his muscles loosen. I glanced up at his face and saw the relief there. My heart sank. "Edward…" I began.

"Yes?" he asked, his voice unabashedly lighter. I pulled away and looked up at him. "I-"

But I couldn't say it. I couldn't explain it. And I knew that this would be one thing he really wouldn't understand. I shook my head. "It doesn't matter."

"Bella?"

"I just feel really weird."

He smiled at me. "It's all going to be alright now. Don't worry."

I bit my lip. He leant down and kissed me. I curled my hands around his face and held him close, clutching my eyes tight shut. He ran his hands around my waist and up my back, pressing me against him. I pulled back and breathed against his chest.

"You look beautiful," he said.

I ran my hands unseen between my hips and smiled at him. "Film?"

He groaned, and reached over for my hot chocolate. He stood up, took my hand and pulled me to my feet. "You must be relieved," he said, stepping forward and opening the door.

I smiled up at him. "Yes," I said, keeping my lips curved upwards.

He smiled a lopsided smile and led me inside.

.

**((it's been a while. sorry. school exams and work experience and language exchanges and trips to paris and rowing galas ****all these things got in the way)) **

**((what are your thoughts? who are you mad at? who are you feeling sorry for?))**

**(( dear icrodriguez i failed but bears will be bearing in some chapter sometime soon i swear it love alice ))**


	26. lost,

**I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,  
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,  
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,  
And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.**

**I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide  
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;  
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,  
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.**

**I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,  
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;  
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover  
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.**

.

.

"Bella-" he pulled away. I paused, letting go of his already half-undone button, and opened my eyes. "Bella, you know I can't."

I sighed, and pressed my lips to his again, ignoring him and returning my hands to his shirt. He didn't respond, only reaching up and taking hold of my wrists. I groaned and banged my head into his shoulder. The door shook in its frame behind him and he let go of my hands. "How do you _know_ you can't?" I asked, running my hands up his chest and resting them around his neck. "You can't be entirely completely definitely _sure_."

"I can't do it."

"We could just _try._"

"Bella."

I looked up into his eyes and scowled at him. He smiled sadly at me and ran his hands up my arms, over my shoulders and around my face. "I'm really sorry," he said.

"You're being ridiculous."

"I'm being careful."

"Overrated. I much prefer danger. Hello, vampire boyfriend." He laughed, and gazed down at me. "You want to, right?" I asked, taking strands of his hair and winding them around my fingers. "So, just go for it. It's easy."

"Doesn't make a difference if it's easy, or if I want to," he replied, his lips set but his eyes still fixed on me.

I slid my hands down his shoulders, down his chest, around his sides. He closed his eyes and rested his head against mine. "Bella, stop," he said, but he didn't make any effort to stop me.

I kissed him again. I lifted his hands and rested them on my chest, then pressed my body against his. He was completely still; and then I felt his hands sliding over my shoulders, hovering over the buttons on the back of my dress. I reached behind me and pressed his hands against them. He was very, very still, and I rested my forehead on his. Waited.

His fingers twisted around and the button came loose. His hand paused for another second, and I could feel my heart beating in my ears. I tried to be completely motionless, but my breathing had sped up and my chest was rising and falling at a not inconsiderable pace.

His fingers trailed along the neckline and then slid down underneath my dress, his palm cool and smooth against my back. The buttons slid open one by one as he moved his hand down, and my back arched against him.

He stopped as soon as I moved, and I felt him rest his forehead in my hair and shake his head. "I can't," he whispered.

"Edward-"

He shook his head, and quickly redid the buttons. I sighed, and stepped back. I looked up to smile at him but he was gone; I turned quickly around, searching the room.

He was leaning out of the window, his fingers pressed around his nose and his shoulders hunched. I bit my lip, and walked slowly over to him. "Hey." I kissed the top of his arm and rested my head on it. "Don't worry," I whispered. "It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does," he spat. "I feel like such an _idiot._"

I looked at his face and felt guilt oozing into my heart. "You shouldn't." I said. "I'm asking for what I can't have."

"But why can't you have it?"

"Because you're scared," I said, simply. He glared down at the forest below. "But everyone gets scared. You expect too much of yourself, sometimes."

He rested his arms on the window sill and stared down at his fingers. "I'm treating you like you're made of glass."

"Yes," I agreed. "But comparatively, I am."

"I feel like a… bull in a china shop."

I laughed and shook my head. "You're being stupid."

"I do _want_ to."

"I know," I said. I kissed his cheek and lifted his arm from the window sill, laying it over my shoulders.

"Maybe," he whispered, "maybe, when all this is over, maybe then…"

"What?"

He looked up at me. "I do have a soul," he said. "I can feel it, right here." He took my hand and held it against his chest, where his heart should be beating. I looked at him, and he met my gaze; then he looked up at the darkening sky. "But you're right. I'm too scared, right now. Nothing is going to make me lose you. Not this, not that dog, and not…" he glanced down at my dress and I wondered exactly how obvious the tiny little bump could possibly be. "Not anything."

.

It was snowing and I was running down the high street in Forks, laughing, chasing a small, dark skinned little girl in front of me. "Juliette!" I was calling. "Juliette Juliette Juliette!"

She was giggling, her little red wellingtons leaving footprints in the snow, her anorak wet with snowflakes. "Run run," she called, in a voice like the top note of a piano, "as fast as you can, you can't catch me, I'm the gingerbread man!"

I laughed and caught up with her, took her under the shoulders, pulled her against me. Little black plaits brushed across my face and little red ribbons trailed behind them. She turned a little round face and laughed, little milk teeth splitting her face in a little grin. "Run run run run," she sang.

"BELLA!" someone shouted behind me, and I turned around; but there was no-one there. The little girl in my arms peered over my shoulder, "Daddy," she shouted, "Daddy Daddy Daddy!"

I heard my name being called again, but still there was no-one there. "Bella!"

"Daddy!"

Still nobody. An empty road full of snow and houses and darkened cars, but no person, no mouth for the words to have left.

"BELLA!"

"Bella, wake up."

"Where are you?" I called into the street.

"Wake up, Bella."

"Daddy!"

"Bella-"

I sat up sharply, the duvet falling from me, my eyes snapping open.

The room was dark, the curtains closed. I turned my head to face Edward. "What-"

His face was empty. "There's someone outside for you."

"What-" I tried to assemble my thoughts. My heart was racing and I couldn't understand why; it hadn't been a nightmare, but still-

"Bella, you need to go outsi-"

"BELLA!"

I jumped, and stared around the room. Jacob's voice echoed in my mind and I looked back at Edward. "Jake?" I asked him, glancing over at the window. "Is he- why is he here?"

Edward shook his head and shrugged. I stared into his eyes, trying to see his face properly through the dark. I looked over at the window and frowned in confusion, rubbed my eyes.

"BELLA!"

I started again, gave Edward a last confused glance, slid out of bed and ran to the window. I could feel Edward's eyes fixed on me but I didn't turn around. I threw the curtains aside and looked out into the dark driveway.

Jacob was stood there, staring up at the house, wearing the same clothes as he had been earlier. I saw him take another breath and I quickly opened the window, leant out. "Jake?" I hissed, into the humming silence of the night. His head snapped upwards and I think his eyes met mine; I couldn't quite see. "Jake, what are you doing here?"

"I need-" and his voice faltered, his hand shot to his mouth, and I saw his shoulders shaking. "I need to talk- I-"

"Are you crying?" I asked, horrified.

"Please, Bells- I-"

It was the nickname that did it. "I'm coming down, Jake," I said, pulling away from the window and running to the bedroom door. I glanced up at Edward before I slipped through, and tried to read his face; but it was perfectly blank. He smiled emptily at me and I bit my lip; and went out into the hall.

I ran down the stairs as fast as I could, jumping down steps and nearly breaking my neck. I crashed into the door, reeling back and twisting the handle. The night air was cold on my legs; I was only wearing a vest top and shorts. I shut the door behind me and turned to greet Jacob.

"Don't get rid of it," he said, as soon as his eyes met mine. His hands were limp at his side and, now that I was closer, I could see his eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed, and his face was dripping with tears. The night was black and moonless, stars speckling the sky, and the trees stood as tall shadows around us. "Don't get rid of it. I didn't mean it, Bells, I don't-"

I jumped off the doorstep and ran over to him, not even pausing to register the pain of the ground on the bare soles of my feet. I wrapped my arms around him, and he rested his head on mine. He was so hot; I had forgotten how warm his skin was.

"Don't get rid of it," he said again, and I could feel the dampness of his face against my head. "I can't- I was sitting at- at home," his voice was staggering, a wounded battle soldier, "and I just thought of how- how I was going to be lonely forever, and I can't- don't get rid of it, Bella, please-"

"I won't," I said, tightening my grip around him. "Oh Jake, I'm so sorry-"

"I'm sorry too, but I was just angry, I'm still angry, I'm furious, but-" he wrapped his arms around me harder and pressed his face against me. "Don't get rid of it."

"I won't," I whispered.

"It fucking stinks, this place," he said through his tears, and I laughed, curling my hands into fists in his shirt. He held me close for a long while, crying quietly into my hair. It felt good to have him in my arms again; after so many years together it had been so strange to be without him.

Then, after a couple of minutes, he loosened his grip and looked down at me. I smiled up at him and wiped his face with my hands. He stared at me, then shook his head as if to clear it, and looked down at my stomach.

He bent down so that he was face to face with it, then reached out a tentative finger and poked it. I felt his finger press against my skin. "Hey, baby."

I closed my eyes and raised my head. Group of cells. Group of-

I felt a sob rising in my throat but I choked it, looked down at Jacob. He was staring at my vest top like it was the holy grail and his face looked so tired, but somehow, so suddenly cheerful. "Hey baby," he said again, and tears were still leaking from his eyes and he was still shivering, but I could see a glimmer of my Jake in his eyes. "It's Daddy. I'm your Daddy."

I couldn't help it. I raised my hand to my eyes and quickly wiped them. Time to be strong time to be strong time to be strong. Enough of the old Crappy Bella. Crappy Bella couldn't cope with this. She'd probably hurl herself off a cliff. Crappy Bella needed to be dead if I was to go on. I breathed heavily.

He reached out both hands and pressed them against me. "You know, Bells, I can feel something different. Already." He absently wiped his face with his arm, and gazed at my top.

I nodded, not able to speak.

He laughed softly, then kneeled on the ground and rested his head against my stomach. I watched his shoulders begin to shake again, but I no longer knew if it was because he was happy or sad or relived or confused or what. The night air spread goosebumps over my skin and I shivered.

"Jake," I said, "Jake, you need to sleep. You're a mess." I was one to talk.

He looked up at me. "Do you- do you promise-"

I nodded quickly, not able to get the words out of my mouth. He smiled, and his teeth gleamed white in the night. He pressed his lips against the material of my top, then stood up. He looked down at me, and took a breath. "I'm still- I still _hate_ you." He said the word with a determined force, and his face blackened with the strength of it.

"I know," I said, staring into his eyes. I could see it in them.

"But you can't- you won't-"

"I promise."

"You've promised things before."

I looked down at the ground. "I don't want to get rid of it, either," I said. "Or I would." I looked up at him. "Do you believe me now?" I shook my head. "I'm disgusting."

He stared at me. "Yeah," he said. "You are."

I stared at him, but he broke the gaze and looked down at my stomach. He glanced his fingers across it once more, then sighed, looked up at the house, looked down the road, and started to walk off. "Jake, don't you have your bike or-"

"The Rabbit's at the bottom of the hill. It was going too slowly."

"Oh," I said. He hadn't turned around, and I watched him walking down the drive.

"Bye, Bella," he said, still not turning around, and broke into a run. I stood and watched his turn the corner and disappear into the forest, listened to his footfalls grow quieter; until they dissolved into the rustle of the trees and buzzing of insects and hooting of owls.

I turned back to the house.

The kitchen light was on, and Edward was staring at me through the window.

.

**(thoughts? i'm sure you have many great ones.)**

**(and still no bearing bears, i'm so crap at this)**


	27. like

**This chapter is dedicated to the darling Camilla10, possibly my most encouraging and supportive reviewer. I owe her so much. Thanks babe!**

**I caught you knocking at my cellar door**  
**I love you, baby, can I have some more?**  
**Oh, oh, the damage done. **

**I hit the city and I lost my band**  
**I watched the needle take another man**

**Gone, gone, the damage done.**

**...**

_**Take Two :] we're heading in the same direction, just slower.**_

_**... **_

**Dear Readers**

**Forgive me for my shitness**

**It is hereditary**

**And I blame my father.**

**...**

The eyes are the window to the soul, they say. The eyes are the window to the soul and the stars over us look down into the night-lit surfaces of them. The eyes are the window to the soul and the night sky can see us clearly for who we are.

Three souls are laid bare. A dark pair, a gold pair, a dripping pair; all three of them closely inspected, all three of them judged. Who is good? Who is bad? Who is right, who is wrong, who is to blame and who is the victim?

...

The darkest eyes are overhung with a heavy brow. They hide a mind which has a surging raging overflowing mass of thought and feeling and emotion, a conflicted and confused mind, a mind which can't quite make itself up. A mind plaited together with a heart, beating erratically; a mind and a heart and a vision. A vision of tiny little fingers and tiny little eyes, a tiny little part of himself with its own tiny little heart and tiny little mind.

The man with the dark eyes flies down the hill, legs being grabbed in the fists of gravity and dragged to the ground, pushing off again and soaring away away away. He is racing to somewhere quiet and alone where he can sit and close his eyes and think. He needs to think, needs to categorise and order the million thoughts swarming inside his head.

His hair is long and the tie around it flew off a mile back; he grabs it in fists and struggles to tuck it behind his ears; it flies about his head like he's medusa and the snakes are hungry, and it circles his eyes and wraps around his eyelashes and he can't see and he trips and falls and-

-groans and bursts into an animal, a gorgeous streamlined animal, undulating, silver-tipped in the moonlight. Front paws hit the ground first and his back ripples as he lands, a graceful wave, shaking off the last of humanity. The wolf is beautiful, slipping through the gloom of night, a smile splitting a furred face, delight spreading like a fire through him at the spontaneity of the transformation. He missed this, the freedom of stretching out into his real self, a necessity ingrained in him since youth. His eyes are wide and his mind is clear, simpler.

And with his simpler mind he can see quite clearly his path of action.

He has within his reach that which he wants.

Why give it up?

...

The dripping eyes hide a weaker soul. A soul in bandages, in casts and slings and therapy sessions. A soul hacked at by years of build ups and let downs and stresses and heartbreaks. A soul which folds when troubles come up and huff and puff and blow it down.

This soul comes in a postage package, with the arrow labelled _this way up_ pointing down, the words FRAGILE stamped on in big red letters. With a little note tied on with string. _I am what you made me._ If you kick someone in the chest enough then they'll never stand up, no matter how much you shout at them.

She stares at the darkened night and how she wishes she could dissolve into it. She wishes she could scatter into a hundred thousand tiny little specs of dust, hanging together in the air for only a second before the wind would blow her away and she would be gone. She turns around and meets the golden eyes staring at her and she takes another punch. She hates herself and she hates what she is doing but she doesn't know what else she can do, and now, just like a million times before, nobody can help her because nobody understands.

The stars twinkle in her eyes and they see her, and they say to each other, _she is pathetic, she never does the right thing, can't she see can't she see?_. But they see her past and they understand why and how, and they whisper to each other. She is what they made her; she is what they made her.

...

And then there's the third soul, far more complex than either of the others, far older, far wiser. Suffering far worse. He meets her eyes and he tries to smile at her, tries to be the supportive lover he told himself he would be. But his cheeks are too heavy to lift, his spirits too low to register as spirits at all. He meets her eyes and he can't do it. He looks away, steps back from the window. He turns and looks around at the kitchen behind him. The house is empty and silent, his family long since fled, and he feels utterly apart and disconnected from everything. Everything is happening around him and he can't do anything about it.

The front door opens and closes and he looks around. She's stood in the doorway, looking up at him, her face wet and her eyes red. I'm going to bed, she tells him.

He wants to say no, he wants to make her stay and talk and tell him what's going on. But he can't and he doesn't. Instead he says I'll make you a cup of tea.

She nods and turns and runs upstairs. He can hear her heart hammering and he can hear her crying to herself. He listens to her as she crawls into bed.

He puts the kettle on to boil and gets out the milk and tea bags and a mug. He stares at the work surface as her sobs gently trickle down through the floors of the house.

There's a feeling that people usually get when they're stuck somewhere that's too hot and too loud, and suddenly the air feels too heavy to breathe and the noise seems too loud to stand and they have to get out get out get out before they suffocate. And stood there in the cold, silent kitchen, that suffocation and desperation presses against him and he closes his eyes and leans his head back. He digs his fingers into the work surface. He runs his hands through his hair. He takes the mug in his fist and hurls it across the room, presses his forehead against the marble of the work top, clenches his fists.

The kettle boils and whistles and whistles.

Upstairs Bella slips into unsettled peace, falls from awake to asleep. Her curled hands relax and her fingers fall limp against the pillow. A tear drops off the edge of her cheek and falls onto the sheets.

The wolf runs and runs and doesn't quite know what to think, but he knows he is relieved. His heart doesn't hurt when it pumps anymore. He creeps along the streets of Cawdor, cloaked in darkness. He folds back into a man and slips through his front door, naked and alone but with peace of mind. I am a father I will be a father I have a child I will have a child.

The kettle boils and whistles and Edward falls to the floor and presses his head into the cupboard doors. What happens now, what happens next? He can't see a way out of this one. He can't see a way back.

Three souls are laid bare. A dark pair, a gold pair, a dripping pair; all three of them closely inspected, all three of them judged. Who is good? Who is bad? Who is innocent? Who is right, who is wrong, who is to blame? Who is the victim?

...

**It was not death, for I stood up,**  
**And all the dead lie down.**  
**It was not night, for all the bells**  
**Put out their tongues for noon.**

**...**

**bit**(dot)**ly**(slash)**aHIcAF**


	28. me

We're close to the end, now, dears.

Sorry for the delay. I got a Thomas. And I still have him. :-D. He makes my heart jump.

…

**À la claire fontaine,  
M'en allant promener  
J'ai trouvé l'eau si belle  
Que je m'y suis baigné**

**Il y a longtemps que je t'aime**  
**Jamais je ne t'oublierai**

**…**

Fate is standing over me in my dream and he's holding two fists behind his back. "Bella," he says, "Bella, I'm holding two lives in my hands. Pick, Bella. Pick."

And I'm staring up at him and I can't pick, so he pulls out his two fists and opens them. He shows me what's inside.

**Fist Number 1**

**(the choice that everyone wants)**

I blink and, on opening my eyes, find myself sitting on the front steps of a huge gothic building; it looks almost like a cathedral, with its vaulted arches and dark flat brick. The main building is stood behind me, and long antichambers reach stone arms around either side of a broad lawn.

Its non-religious status is, however, confirmed by the groups of young people lying out on the grass in front of it, sun pouring down from a clear blue sky. Books lie across the faces of sunbathers, satchels and test papers scattered across the wide lawn. The gentle chatter of sleepy voices mixes with the rushing noise of water; in the centre of this lawn there's a fountain, a huge sculptural affair, and on it a blonde boy is sat with a girl resting her head in his lap. He's holding a book open, and he's reading from it. I can hear his voice from here; he's speaking with an accent, an English one. "Look not into my eyes for fear," he says, "they mirror true the sight I see…"

And a quiet, familiar voice behind me completes the sentence for him. I whip around to see Edward leaning into another girl's ear. "And there you find your face too clear, and love it, and be lost, like me." He takes the girl's hand and together they sit on the shadowed stone balustrade leading off the top of the steps, behind them a covered stone pathway which circles the building. She rests her head on his shoulder and closes her eyes. He looks out onto the lawn.

"Edward?" I say, looking from him to the girl. He doesn't look at me, so I say his name again. Still nothing, so I stand up and walk over to him. "Edward," I say. But I know before I've said it he can't see me, because his eyes stare ahead unfocused.

So this is a dream. And I'm not really here.

My eyes fall onto the girl beside him, and my heart jumps.

It's me, but me as I've never seen me before. My skin is pale and clear, and my hair is longer, thicker, curling at the ends. My features are more regular and graceful, and I'm thinner and far taller. And when I open my eyes, they're a deep amber. I step back and stare at me a while longer.

I'm scared by myself. Intimidated by myself. I don't like it. I rest my finger on my nose and run it along the slight bump. For once I'm glad it's there.

"I didn't agree with what Farlow said," the perfect me says, in a voice that is not my own. Edward laughs, and kisses me- or her- on her head. She moves her head back and catches his lips, and I feel a strange surge of jealously toward this perfect version of myself.

"You never agree with what the poor guy says," Edward whispers, pulling back and twisting fake Bella's hair around his finger, just as he had with the hair that hung around my own face. "What was it this time?"

Fake Bella walks her fingers up Edward's arm, up to his collar, up to his top button, gently loosens it. "When he said that the Sacre Coeur was a 'wonderful piece of architecture.'" Fake me puts on a perfect British accent. Edward's eyes fall to her hand, which is slowly unbuttoning his second button.

"Oh? You disagree?" he asked, reaching for her hand and kissing it. "Later_,_" he whispers. The word rings through me like a million bells, and again the paradoxical jealously pokes its head up and sniffs.

Perfect Bella pulls a face. "I think it's hideous. And I hate later. I had enough later while I was human."

It feels so odd, watching her; knowing she is me and yet still feeling outshone, as if she were a stranger who knew all about me, who could crush me with their big toe.

Edward merely winks and curls his arm around fake me. "We've been there how many times-"

"Seven."

"Seven times, and you've never told me this_ why_?"

"Because you always get so excited about Paris! I don't want to pop Edward's happy little bubble."

"But I don't like it, either. You could've just said, and we could have only gone the first time."

"Never again."

"Never again. Anything else you've not told me about Paris? Secret loathing of the Notre Dame?" He squeezes her around the middle and kisses her again, and she laughs against his lips, tickles her fingers through his hair.

"The Notre Dame is wonderful," she says. Perfect Bella curls her hair behind her ear, turns from him and stares forward. She falls completely and unnaturally still, and Edward watches her carefully, his attention suddenly sharp and focused. "I only wish they'd stop cleaning it. Relics ought to look like relics. That guy over there smells really really good."

Edward raises his eyebrows, and I turn to see where their gazes are falling. The blonde boy on the fountain is looking down at the girl in his lap, talking to her, laughing. I turn back to look at fake me. There's a hunger, a desperation in her eyes, and my arms are suddenly covered in goosebumps.

"Bella, stop breathing." Edward's voice is sharp and authoritative.

"But can't you smell it?" She takes a slow, deep breath.

"Stop breathing, Isabella."

"Relax, Edward, no-one will notice. He's just one guy. I can see it pumping in his neck from here…" Perfect me is still sits unnaturally still, eyes still looking straight at the boy. Her fingers tap against the balustrade to the tune of heartbeats, pump-pump, pump-pump. "Can't you smell it, Edward?" Pump-pump, pump-pump, "Can't you-"

Edward's fingers pinch around fake Bella's nose, his palm across her mouth. She stares forward for a second longer; then blinks quickly and looks up at him. Her eyes lose that demented look and she suddenly looks lost, confused.

"Calm down, Bella."

She stares up at him a second longer, then her face falls, and she clenches her eyes shut. She nods.

"Let's go," Edward whispers. "Hold your breath." He releases her and she presses her fist into her face, falls against him.

"Sorry," she says. "Sorry, sorry, sorry. I'm so pathetic, I-"

"It's normal, Bella, it's expected, it's fine. Let's go, he saw you looking."

"No, I can handle it, let's stay here-"

"No." Fake me looks affronted at the harsh tone, so Edward softens his voice. "Bella, we don't want a repeat of what happened in Prague."

Fake Bella looks up at him, and her face is suddenly flooded with fear. They slide off the balustrade and link pale hands. She looks back at the fountain, at the boy, and then quickly turns her head.

The scene around me starts to fade, the colours trickling like running paint, and the college and the sunlight and the students and the sky are all falling around me, raining on me, and fate is holding his other hand in front of my eyes and I'm diving in.

**Fist Number Two**

**(the choice that nobody seems too keen about)**

And this time I'm sat on a plastic barrel in Knives Garage, and there are only three people.

"I like the bit with the mouse!"

"The mouse?"

Another Bella is sat there with a pretty little girl on her lap, and Jacob's feet are sticking out from under a car. And it really is _me_ this time; but slightly older, my skin slightly darker. I'm wearing a shirt-dress of my mother's, light denim and sleeveless, and I look like her; I've got the same laugh lines. The little girl has dark features and a huge mass of beautiful curly hair, and she's holding a book open in front of her, Alice in Wonderland. Her eyes are screwed up in deep concentration. Her little red booted feet stick out of a pair of dungarees.

I can't take my eyes off her. My heart feels light and empty, and my fingers are quivering slightly. My eyes fall wide open and all I can do is stare.

"When there's a mouse who's sleepy and he sings," and here the little girl sings in a high pitched, out of tune voice, and I grin at the sound of it. I can't help it; the little voice grabs my lips and pulls them into a smile. "Twinkly twinkly little bat, how I wonder what you are."

The older Bella laughs, and Jacob's laugh comes out from under the car. "I don't think those are the words, Jules," his voice calls out.

"Here," Bella says, and flicks the pages over. "What does it say, Juliette?" and here she leans over to the car and hisses, "Juliette, Jacob, not Jules."

"I'll call her what I want, she's half of me."

Bella rolls her eyes, and leans over Juliette's shoulder. "What does it say?"

"It says…" Juliette stares at the page. "Once upon a time there was a march hare and a mad hatter who had a hat and some tea and a best friend called Jules Black-"

"See, she even calls herself Jules," Jacob calls out from under the car. "And I'm pretty sure those are the wrong words, honey," Juliette laughs, a high pitched little milk-toothed giggle. "But your mother can't expect you to read, Jules, you're three."

The little girl counts the number out on her fingers and holds her hand up to Bella's face. "Three," she says.

Bella laughs, puts the book on the floor and picks the girl up. She holds her under the arms and raises her high into the air. "Twinkle twinkle little bat, how I wonder what you're at. Up above the world so high, like a tea tray in the sky." And Bella spins around holding her and Juliette giggles and screams and kicks her little feet, dark curls spinning.

"Mummy!" She calls, catching her breath between giggles. "Mummy, I want an ice cream."

"You want?" Bella repeats, raising her eyebrows, swinging Juliette under her arm and landing her on the floor.

"Please can I have?"

Jacob's laugh booms out from under the car.

"Better," Bella says. She reaches into her pocket, rummages in there, then sighs. "Sorry," she says, "have you got any money, Jake?"

"Nope," Jacob says, his body appearing from under the car. "Sorry, Jules. There might be some in the fridge, if you go home. Ice cream, I mean, not money. Pass me the oil, honey."

Juliette collects small red plastic container from the garage floor, and grins. "I can do it," she says, authoritatively. Jacob grins at her.

"Can you, now?"

"Yep."

"Go right ahead, then."

Bella laughs and walks over to them, climbs onto the car hood, arches her eyebrows at Juliette, smiles. Juliette takes the container and holds it to Jacob's head, and squeezes. Jacob cries out in mock-horror, and Bella laughs. Juliette rubs the oil all over her father's head, giggles. "Much better," she says.

There's a loud beep-beep, beep-beep, and Jacob reaches into his overall pocket, pulls out a phone, frowns at it. He exchanges a look with Bella, and she bites her lip, looks down at her daughter. "Juliette, would you go and find Peppa Pig so we can go home?"

Juliette pulls a face, "But," she says.

"Jules, do what your mum says," Jacob says.

Juliette sticks out her lip and runs into the garage.

"She'll never find it, she looses it wherever we go," Bella sighs, turning to watch as the back door closes. "What did it say?"

"It said," Jacob said, standing up and joining her on the hood, "We still need another two thousand."

"We can do that before she starts, surely?" Bella asks, peering into Jacob's hair. "I hope I remembered to buy shampoo."

"I don't know if we can or not, Bells."

"Well, it's the only local one we've got a chance of affording. I'm not sending her to Cawdor Elementary, Jake, no way."

"I'm not sending her there either. Maybe, if I work a longer week…" he groans, lies back on the windscreen. "Or I could sell my bike…"

"I'll sell mine, we only need one and you use yours more."

"Could you not just call… y'know?"

"What?" Bella asks, confused. "If you mean the bank, I've tried, there's no way-"

"No, I mean, call _him_. He offered, I remember, he said if you ever were in trouble-"

"No, Jacob," Bella says, quickly and quietly.

"But if would be no skin off his back, they're like, billionaires."

"No." Jacob rolls his eyes, and Bella glares at him, looks away. "No, Jacob. I'm not going back there."

"Fine. Sorry. Just an idea."

A silence falls over them, broken by the back door opening and Juliette's voice calling out, "Found her!"

Bella slides off the car, smiles at the girl as she waves a little stuffed cotton pig in an anorak. "Home?" she asks. "Oh Jules, you're getting oil all over Peppa-"

"See, _Jules_."

"I did not say Jules, Jacob-"

"Yes, you did!" Jacob says, laughing.

"Home home home," Juliette sings. "Bye, daddy."

"Bye, Jules," Jacob says, scooping her up and kissing her on her head. "Be good. And if you can't be good…"

"Be careful," Juliette chirps, grinning her milk-toothed smile and kissing her father on his nose.

Bella takes Juliette by the hand and smiles at Jake as he kisses her on the cheek. "Later, Bells," he says. "Love you."

"You too," Bella says. "C'mon, Juliette."

"Twinkly twinkly, little bat, like a tea tray in the sky."

Bella laughs, and joins in, both of them singing nonsense at the top of their voices. Jacob shakes his head, smiling broadly, and whistles as he slips back under the car.

And then the scene rains on my head and dribbles away, washes off and leaves everything blank.

And Fate is standing over me again.

"Pick, Bella. Pick."

…

**Chante****, rossignol, chante,  
Toi qui as le cœur gai  
Tu as le cœur à rire,  
Moi je l'ai à pleurer**

**Il y a longtemps que je t'aime  
Jamais je ne t'oublierai**** .**


	29. A e

********

**When you are old and grey and full of sleep,****  
****And nodding by the fire, take down this book,**  
**And slowly read, and dream of the soft look**  
**Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep.**

**How many loved your moments of glad grace,  
And loved your beauty with love false or true,  
But one man loved the pilgrim Soul in you,  
And loved the sorrows of your changing face.**

**And bending down beside the glowing bars,  
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled  
And paced upon the mountains overhead  
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.**

**...**

**.sorry sorry sorry. i have many excuses. take my word that they are good. lots of love, me.**

**.oh. EPOV. btw.**

**...**

I stood in the doorway of our bedroom and looked over at the bed. The covers were shaped around her, still white waves, and her head was rested on its side, her eyes closed and her hair curling around her neck. I stood there and watched her and a little smile crept across my face, despite the turmoil in my mind. Her sleeping face calmed me. She made me smile. She made my chest feel light.

I walked over to her, placed a kiss gently on her forehead, and stood in the silence, listened to her breaths floating heavy in the air. She sighed, frowned, rolled slightly toward me. I slid off my shoes, pulled my jeans and shirt off, climbed into bed next to her. The duvet was warm against my skin and I curled up slightly, turned to face her. Her eyes remained closed and her body moved steadily as she breathed.

I reached out a finger and traced it lightly along her face, over her lips, under her chin. It was very warm and very quiet, and I leaned forward and kissed her because it felt right. It felt comfortable. It felt like belonging.

She was still and asleep as I leant in, but her lips moved against mine when we touched. I stopped and smiled, and touched the end of my nose to hers. Her eyes slowly opened, and she smiled softly at me.

"Guess what?" She whispered, her voice heavy with sleep.

"What?"

She curled her hand over my shoulder. "You've got three eyes." She yawned, closed her eyes, curled up tighter.

"You've got eight legs."

She laughed, opened her eyes and rested her finger on my eyelid. "One," she said, "Two," on the other eyelid, "Three." She pointed at the middle of my face. "Edward, I just had the scariest dream."

"Tell me about it?"

"No," she said. "I don't want to think about it."

"I don't want to think about anything."

"Let's not."

"Let's not."

We lay there for a while longer, nose to nose. Her fingers wandered down my chin and along my neck and over my shoulders. She stared at me, her eyes thoughtful and sleepy. Then she moved forwards, slid her lips into mine; kissed me straight on, then sideways, then on the corners of my mouth, on the tip of my nose. I explored her lips, moved along her cheeks, kissed her eyelids. Her hands slid behind my back and she pulled herself close, and our lips were together again and my face was warm against hers and my lips were wet and suddenly my hands had crept down just past her collarbones. And I don't know how it happened but suddenly I was touching somewhere I hadn't before and she had stopped kissing me and was very still.

It was odd. Her breaths slowed right down and her eyes were closed, really lightly closed, and she moved herself up to my touch. I moved my thumbs and my fingers and it was strange. Strange in a new way, strange in that she was experiencing something I was completely disconnected from and yet completely in control of. Her breath caught and she smiled, opened her eyes, looked at me. "New," she said.

"Not for you."

"No."

"What do I- I mean-" I looked down, tried to make them out in the darkness.

"Ssh," she said. She laughed softly at me as I met her eyes. "You're doing fine."

I raised my eyebrows, pulled her nightshirt over her head and tucked it under the pillow. I could barely make her out properly in the dark but she was so soft to touch and so warm and so small.

She sighed and rested her head back on the pillow, closed her eyes. I ran my fingers over her and listened to her breathing and watched her face change. After a minute or so I pressed my lips there instead and she moved her chest upwards and it was strange. I moved in different ways and it didn't stop being strange but it was nice to watch her face. It made me smile.

I stopped after a while, because she stopped moving and her breathing was heavy and deep and regular again. She opened her eyes as I slid up next to her. She smiled at me, yawned quietly, curled up against me and settled back to sleep.

(I had terrible thoughts while she was silent and dead to the world. They slipped into my head and whispered things in my ear, horrible things, horrifying little whispered words which I couldn't stop but couldn't ignore. I wandered around my own mind, trying to find a way out, but I couldn't, and I was trapped, and the only thing keeping me upright was the little figure under my arm, and I stumbled along the corridors in my mind, and I felt like screaming or running or screaming and running and running and jumping off a cliff and falling and falling and- )

She woke up again an hour or so later. I had my head next to hers and her eyes opened and she shifted closer to me.

"You alright?" I asked.

She was quiet. She was looking at me intently; I could make out her soft frown in the darkness. Her fingers ran along my collarbones and over my arms. It tickled slightly, pleasantly. "Are you happy, Edward?" she asked.

"I am now. I wasn't. But I am now."

She was quiet for another long moment.

"I don't know what I'd do without you."

I was silent. She looked up at me with her big brown eyes and then pressed her head under my chin.

"It makes me feel all panicky just thinking about it."

"Then don't think about it," I whispered. I could feel that same panic scratching at the inside of my chest and stayed very still, trying to suppress it. It was a little disease we'd caught from each other and it was slowly killing us both, slowing scratching us away.

She curled both arms around my neck and held me as tightly as she could. I lay still and unmoving and kept my eyes staring straight forward, until I was completely in control of myself again.

I pulled her up the bed and pressed my face to hers, kissed her for a minute or so. I could tell she was tired by her slow movements, her deep breaths, her inability to keep up with the intensity of my movements. But I didn't let her sleep. I was scared of the morning and I didn't want to reach it alone.

Almost like she was still dreaming, she ran her hand over my chest, my arms, along my stomach muscles. Her touch tickled and I shivered, my skin tingling in the wake of her finger. She looked up at me in the darkness, the thin moonlight glancing off her eyes and lighting her face in a dark, almost impenetrable grey. She held my gaze very steadily as her fingers brushed over my hips, and then- and then; my breath left me in a little quiet gasp. My eyes were shut and suddenly I could only focus on one thing.

"Hello," she whispered, "What's this?"

I laughed softly, my eyes still closed, trying to catch up with what I was feeling. She kissed me on the forehead, pressed her lips against the hollow of my neck. I lay as still as I could and listened to my own breaths as they slowed and deepened. I tried to control them, tried to keep them sounding at least slightly normal, but as everything built and built they got fast and deeper and I couldn't stop them.

I clenched my eyes shut and bit the inside of my lip and tried to keep quiet. My body was moving almost of its own accord and I could feel myself reaching for something just ahead, yearning for something more, and my mouth opened and my eyes were pressed shut and I was almost not embarrassed at all when I moved myself closer and closer then back and forth and back and forth and back and forth and-

"Sorry," I said, as I fell still and her hand drew away. "Sorry, I should have-"

"Ssh," she whispered, closing her eyes again. "I love you."

"I love you, too," I said. The night was light and warm around us, a little shade for us in which we could recover from the piercing heat of day. I lay and let my breathing coast back to a steady speed again, let my body calm down, let myself relax.

"Are you okay?" she asked. I nodded, slid my arms around her waist, buried my face in her hair. She ran her fingers up and down my back, then she fell still and her breathing evened out and she was gone.

I wished I could sleep.

…


	30. Houseman

**Dear Reader—**

**So it's been over a year. But I am finishing this. I decided that I would end it when I began writing Storms when I was thirteen. And so I will.**

**I'm dedicating the whole thing to icrodriguez for being a rock. I hope this is an ending she'll be able to live with.**

* * *

**Jenny kissed me when we met,  
Jumping from the chair she sat in;  
Time, you thief, who love to get  
Sweets into your list, put that in!  
Say I'm weary, say I'm sad,  
Say that health and wealth have missed me,  
Say I'm growing old, but add,  
Jenny kissed me.**

**...**

* * *

Love is a beautiful and selfish thing. Love is a blessing but love is a disability. Once you have it you'll be loathe to let it go for anything because without it you're in hell. It's your lifeline; it's the reason you get up in the morning and it's what delays your sleep at night. But it cripples you. It makes you dependant.

...

Jacob Black lies in bed alone, staring at his ceiling and alternately wiping away tears and punching holes in his mattress. The curtains are torn from where a particularly violent burst of fury caused an unexpected transformation. There is a long rip in the wallpaper from the window to the floor and shattered glass leaks from a photo frame lying face down on the carpet.

He's struggling with three emotions.

1.) Love.

Love and longing for the tiny little seed of hope which is growing and growing and turning into a little bit of him. At first the idea of a tie to _her _utterly repulsed him; but as he began to feel the sharp pangs of loneliness this repulsion disappeared. That little bundle of possibility was a beacon of light in an otherwise dark future.

2.) Hate.

Hatred so hot and volatile that it bursts up within him with such intensity that he can barely comprehend it. Hatred like he has never felt, hatred that makes his hands shake and his fists curl. He can't be near her anymore. He can't take it.

3.) Confusion.

Confusion about how love can be bundled up inside hate. How he can get that love out safely and take it away from the hate, that hatred, that poisonous bitch?

...

* * *

Edward sits on the windowsill of their bedroom, staring at Bella as she sleeps. It seems he loves her more with each of her breaths, each rise and fall of her chest. He aches to be with her, to hold her without freezing her, to touch her and kiss her and love her without fear. He longs for the night where they can lie with their legs tangled together and their breaths coming hard and fast, fingers curled in each others hair and o-shaped smiles on their faces. Just thinking about it drives him mad. He closes his eyes.

He is overwhelmed by the incredible selfishness of love. He wants nothing more than for Jacob Black and all the complications he comes with to disappear into the air. He wants all trace of that dog gone from the body of his Isabella. He wants rid of any reminder that there was a time that she wasn't entirely his.

He hates himself for it. He knows this is all his fault, that he tipped the first domino of these events and there's nobody more to blame than himself.

He opens his eyes and looks at Bella, her hair curling around her face and her lips slightly parted.

Whatever happens he's keeping her. He doesn't care about whether that's the right thing to do or whether that makes him a good or a bad person. Because she's his and he loves her and that means there's nothing more to be done.

...

Bella is walking along the streets of Cawdor with her head down and her jacket held tight around her. She had told Edward she needed to be alone to think. She told him she had something to do. He had bitten his lip and nodded, and then thrown her an apple and asked her to at least have some sort of breakfast. The same apple is lying uneaten in a ditch a mile from the house.

She had spent about two hours walking down the hill thinking and thinking and then she had sat down, got some paper and a pen out of her pocket and started to write. She had sat writing for about half an hour, and then caught the bus into Cawdor. She hadn't allowed herself to cry but the decision she had come to had left her feeling empty.

She turned the corner on to her old street and walked quickly along it, turning up her old drive to her old house and not looking at it. She pinned the note to the door and stepped back. She drew a breath and look a last look at her home. Then she turned and ran away.

_Jake—_

_Okay, don't screw this up, you need to read it._

_I want to begin by saying sorry, useless as that is. I know that you hate me, and I don't blame you because what I've done is hideous. I used you until I got what I wanted and if I ever do die I'm going straight to hell and I'll deserve it. _

_Love is a manipulative bitch. Or maybe I'm the manipulative bitch. Either way I can't leave Edward again because I love him and I could never hurt him like that. And I know that you wouldn't want me anyway. _

_But there's another thing that I can't do, and I can't lose the little person we accidentally made. I promised you I wouldn't and I don't want to. But I don't want to force myself back onto you because you need a __clean break__ and you deserve that. And the life I'm about to choose isn't compatible with a child anyway; it's too secret a world to let a kid in on._

_I know you'll be the best Dad in the world, because you're the warmest, most kind-hearted and wonderful person I've ever met. _

_It will break my heart to let it go but I guess it's the least I deserve. And it gives you something to love. Just when it grows up, makes sure it knows I love it. Not it, that sounds odd. He. She._

_Be in touch,_

_love_

_Bella xxx_

**_..._**

She told Edward what she had decided to do. He held her tight as she cried. He whispered in her ear.

He told her that he loved her and that she loved him, and that Jacob would love that little baby.

He told her that no matter what they had to do to stay together, no matter how terrible she felt or how much she hated herself he would always, always love her.

He told her that with so much love around everything would be okay in the end.

.

Just the epilogue to go now, guys. It's longer, promise. xxx


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